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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710739">Hélène</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wecomrades/pseuds/wecomrades'>wecomrades</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Band of Brothers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate History, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Combat, Easy Company - Freeform, F/M, Friends to Lovers, HBO War - Freeform, Maybe - Freeform, POV Original Female Character, Paratroopers, SOE, Slow Burn, Soldiers, Special Operations Executive, Spies, Spy material, Undercover Missions, World War II, no i'm kidding, super angst at some point, you're gonna suffer but you're gonna be happy about it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:41:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>159,271</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25710739</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wecomrades/pseuds/wecomrades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace Whitehead, code name Hélène, has a 5 million-franc price on her head, but that doesn’t stop her commitment to SOE, Special Operations Executive. On D-Day, she parachutes into Normandy along with the leader of French Resistance and their radioman, to deliver intelligence to the Airborne. When the head of SOE tells her the Gestapo has raised the price on her head, the only way to let it die is by faking her death and going undercover with Easy Company.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>George Luz/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Nancy Wake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hiii! Welcome to my story!  :)</p><p>A little preview before the actual story, I recommend you to read it because it's important! Also, you'll get to know the origin of my OC character.</p><p>This is the story of Grace Deanna Whitehead, member of the SOE and working for the French Resistance, and of Easy Company, 506th, Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airborne.</p><p>My OC is loosely based on real badass war hero Nancy Wake; I took inspiration from her story and her experiences, but I arranged it my own way to make her fit well with the Band of Brothers fellas. By this I mean no disrespect for her or for the real veterans. My handsome Airborne boys are strictly based off the actors in the tv show!</p><p>If you don't know who Nancy Wake was, I'll leave you some info here as a first chapter so you can be in awe for the rest of your life like myself, and you also can have a little preview of how my OC would be. I decided to name her differently due to the fact that not all the things mentioned  in this story have really happened to her, but most important I mean no disrespect and it felt so wrong, anyway.</p><p>Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and alternate history, so not everything makes always sense. I did my research so I tried to stick up to reality as much as I could, but not always this worked out very well, haha! The main character is mine, so I'll have her do whatever I want her to do. Other characters ain't mine, but I'll have them do whatever I want them to do anyway, eheh</p><p>Again, I tried to be as accurate as possible with the events, but sometimes I just couldn't stick to them due to situations involving my OC. I hope you understand. Anyway, whenever I put real events or even real dialogues in the chapters, I'll let you know! So watch out for the ending notes!</p><p>Thank you so much for deciding to come read my story! I really hope you love it, just as much as I loved writing it! Votes and comments are very much appreciated, as does constructive criticism, because it might help me and my writing to get better :) and most important, all of this keep me motivated!</p><p>Warning: a few swear words here and there.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>✦✦✦</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Nancy Grace Augusta Wake</b>
</p>
<p>30 August 1912 – 7 August 2011</p>
<p>
  <em>(source: Military Wiki)</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Born in Roseneath, Wellington, New Zealand in 1912, Wake was the youngest of six children. In 1914, her family moved to Sydney, Australia and settled at North Sydney. Shortly thereafter, her father, Charles Augustus Wake, returned to New Zealand, leaving her mother to raise the children.</p>
<p>In 1937, Wake met wealthy French industrialist <em>Henri Edmond Fiocca</em> (1898–1943), whom she married on 30 November 1939. She was living in Marseille, France when Germany invaded.</p>
<p>After the fall of France in 1940, <em>she became a courier for the French Resistance </em>and <em>later joined the escape network of Captain Ian Garrow</em>. In reference to Wake's ability to elude capture, the Gestapo  called her the <b>White Mouse</b>. The Resistance had to be very careful with her missions; her life was in constant danger, with the Gestapo tapping her phone and intercepting her mail.</p>
<p>In November 1942, troops occupied the southern part of France after the Allies' Operation Torch had started. This gave the Gestapo unrestricted access to all papers of the Vichy régime and made life more dangerous for Wake. The Germans had an English spy, <em>Sergeant Harold Cole</em>, working for them. <b><em>By 1943, Wake was the Gestapo's most wanted person, with a 5 million-franc price on her head.</em></b> When the network was betrayed that same year, she decided to flee Marseille. Her husband, Henri Fiocca, stayed behind; he was later captured, tortured and executed by the Gestapo.</p>
<p>Wake described her tactics:<em> "A little powder and a little drink on the way, and I'd pass their (German) posts and wink and say, 'Do you want to search me?' God, what a flirtatious little bastard I was."</em></p>
<p>Wake had been arrested in Toulouse, but was released four days later. An acquaintance managed to have her let out by making up stories about her supposed infidelity to her husband. She succeeded, on her sixth attempt, in crossing the Pyrenees to Spain. Until the war ended, she was unaware of her husband's death and subsequently blamed herself for it.</p>
<p>After reaching Britain, Wake<b> joined the Special Operations Excecutive. </b>Vera Atkins, who also worked in the SOE, recalls her as <em>"a real Australian bombshell. Tremendous vitality, flashing eyes. Everything she did, she did well."</em> Training reports record that she was <em>"a very good and fast shot"</em> and possessed excellent fieldcraft. She was noted to <em>"put the men to shame by her cheerful spirit and strength of character."</em></p>
<p>On the night of 29–30 April 1944, Wake was parachuted into the Auvergne, becoming a liaison between London and the local group headed by <em>Captain Henri Tardivat</em> in the Forest of Tronçais. Upon discovering her tangled in a tree, Captain Tardivat greeted her remarking, <em>"I hope that all the trees in France bear such beautiful fruit this year,"</em> to which she replied, <em>"Don't give me that French shit." </em>Her duties included allocating arms and equipment that were parachuted in and minding the group's finances. Wake became instrumental in recruiting more members and making the maquis groups into a formidable force, roughly 7,500 strong. She also led attacks on German installations and the local Gestapo HQ in Montluçon.</p>
<p>At one point Wake discovered that her men were protecting a girl who was a German spy. They did not have the heart to kill her in cold blood, but Wake did. She said after that it was war, and she had no regrets about the incident.</p>
<p>From April 1944 until the liberation of France, her 7,000+ maquisards fought 22,000 soldiers, causing 1,400 casualties, while taking only 100 themselves. Her French companions, especially Henri Tardivat, praised her fighting spirit, amply demonstrated when<em> she killed an SS sentry with her bare hands</em> to prevent him from raising the alarm during a raid.</p>
<p>During a 1990s television interview, when asked what had happened to the sentry who spotted her, Wake simply drew her finger across her throat.<em> "They'd taught this judo-chop stuff with the flat of the hand at SOE, and I practised away at it. But this was the only time I used it -- whack -- and it killed him all right. I was really surprised."</em></p>
<p>On another occasion, to replace codes her wireless operator had been forced to destroy in a German raid, Wake rode a bicycle for more than 500 miles (800 km) through several German checkpoints. During a German attack on another maquis group, Wake, along with two American officers, took command of a section whose leader had been killed. She directed the use of suppressive fire, which facilitated the group's withdrawal without further losses.</p>
<p>Immediately after the war, <b>Wake was awarded the George Medal</b>, the United States Medal of Freedom, the <b>Médaille de la Résistance</b>, and<b> thrice the Croix de Guerre</b>. She learned that the Gestapo had tortured her husband to death in 1943 for refusing to disclose her whereabouts. After the war, she worked for the Intelligence Department at the British Air Ministry attached to embassies in Paris and Prague.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to thank my other brain cell Angelica_writes aka hellitwasyoufirstsergeant on tumblr for bearing with me while I was writing this chapter and for reading it in advance! And a special thank goes to my friend Dan (sunnyshifty) for his HUGE help on this chapter! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>April 19, 1930, Lancaster, Pennsylvania.</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The mild wind gently tickles Grace's ears, as she trots swiftly behind her friend, trying to keep up.</p>
<p>"Wait!" she moans, moving a little bit faster. "My legs are not two long sticks like yours, Richard!"</p>
<p>Grace can't see Richard smiling, but she knows he is.</p>
<p>Richard has been her best friend since his family moved to the same neighborhood as Grace, about four year previous, and have been inseparable since then. The Winters family had welcomed her to their house and their lives from the very moment she became friends with their son. He had always said to her it was because 'any friend of Richard is part of the family', but she knows they only pitied her.</p>
<p>At the beginning, at least.</p>
<p>All of this because Grace's family hates her.</p>
<p>Well, it's not that they <em>hate</em> her for real, but if she wasn't born then they would probably have a better life. She knows that, because she had heard those exact words coming out of her father's mouth. Truth is her father, Fleet Admiral Abraham Whitehead with a Distinguished Service Medal and many other things which were too difficult for Grace to memorise, wanted a son. When Grace was born, her mother told her that he was so upset he took a long drive and didn't come home in five days, but figured out they could try again to give birth to a <em>worthy young Whitehead soldier </em>eventually, his actual words. But complications happened and her mother couldn't be the bearer of any more children.</p>
<p>Since then, her father blamed Grace.</p>
<p>Since then, Grace had been like a ghost in her own house.</p>
<p>The Winters family kind of knew that, probably Richard told them at some point, so they welcomed her in their house as if she was their own daughter. Grace liked that, she felt safe when she was under their roof.</p>
<p>"You move like a snail, Gracie," Richard mocks her, turning around and sticking out his tongue. "How can you even think about becoming a pilot if you're this slow?"</p>
<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Ignorance," she shoots back. "Pilots don't have to walk or run, they fly planes."</p>
<p>"I know, I was just mocking you, silly."</p>
<p>Being a pilot has been Grace's most recent dream. A few days back, she and Richard were playing in the yard a couple of blocks away from their houses, when a plane flew over. She had seen planes before, obviously, she's eight years old so it's not like planes were a mystery. However that day she felt something different. Grace asked Richard what pilots must feel, having all of those lives in their hands. He said he didn't know, but wasn't even keen on finding that out because he was afraid of heights.</p>
<p>Anyhow, she made that her big mission.</p>
<p>"I'm not silly," Grace pouts, reaching him and tangling their arms together. She stays quiet for some time, just enjoying her friend's company, before she speaks again. "Father says there'll be another war. I want to fly planes, to help."</p>
<p>Richard smiles a little, shaking his head. He was just four years older than Grace, but he already looked so grown up. "Gracie, there are other ways you can help. Your father will never let you get a pilot's license."</p>
<p>"He will," she replies, nodding, "and he'll pray that the plane will crash so he doesn't have to pretend to <em>not</em> have a daughter anymore. Because in fact he won't have one."</p>
<p>"<em>Now</em> you're being silly!"</p>
<p>"Rich, you know him.<em> I </em>know him."</p>
<p>"The fact that he wanted a boy doesn't mean he wants you dead, now," Richard shots back.</p>
<p>Grace isn't convinced at all, but she doesn't say anything back; they had already this discussion plenty of times, and it usually ends up with Richard reassuring her that everything is going to be okay. Grace knows it won't be like that, but she doesn't have the heart to say that to her friend.</p>
<p>"Come on, little monkey, let's go home," says Richard, spreading an arm around her little figure. "You're just eight years old but you're so stubborn already."</p>
<p>Perhaps it's true that her father doesn't want her dead, now that she thinks about it it sounds rather stupid. But the fact that he cares nothing about her will always remain true. No matter what Richard says.</p>
<p>The only thing that Grace can do to make her father love her is to <em>become the son he never had.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>June 6th, 1944, somewhere in Normandy</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Fuck."</p>
<p>Grace takes a deep breath, trying not to think too hard about the unbearable pain in her left arm. It's pitch dark and she has no idea if her arm is broken, if there was a branch skewered though it or if she has lost it altogether during the jump.</p>
<p>"Fuck, fuck, <em>fuck.</em>"</p>
<p>Grace tries to untangle herself from the parachute, without much success. This is not what was supposed to happen today. Okay, it's war, shit happens, but they can't afford <em>that</em>, not today. She needs to get into Normandy safe and sound, she needs to have her radio man and the leader of the France Resistance by her side immediately after the jump and she needs⎯ she needs a drink.</p>
<p>Speaking of, where the hell had Tardivat gone? And Rake? Christ, that mission was already a failure from the very beginning, she knew something would go wrong because this Operation was planned so badly, and... she just <em>knew</em> it.</p>
<p>Instead Grace is stuck into a tree fouled up in her freaking parachute, the French Resistance leader and radio man are nowhere to be seen, and on top of that she is hungry and thirsty; she should have listened to Denis and drank some water before the jump.</p>
<p>Grace tries to look down, searching for clues of her whereabouts and how high she is trapped in that tree. Nothing, too dark. As if they heard her thoughts and prayers for some lights, Germans' artillery starts brightening up the sky.</p>
<p>In a fragment of seconds she realises two things: first, her arm is still attached to her body, which is definitely good news. Second, she's close to the ground, which could be both a lucky matter or a serious problem.</p>
<p>In all of this Grace still has to figure out how to get to the ground. Guns were still shooting up at the sky, she couldn't see it but imagined the target was the Airborne. Damn, let's hope for the best. The Airborne is her mission.</p>
<p>As soon as she thinks that, she hears some branches and leaves creaking not far from her: Grace tries to stay put, hoping that the lighting from the fire will not reveal her presence. The light noises were approaching fast, when a figure - a familiar figure - appears.</p>
<p>She stays still, because she couldn't be certain.</p>
<p>"<em>Hélène?</em>" a voice echoes and she sighs in relief, she knows that voice. Plus, only two people in France know her code name. Henri Tardivat's presence feels like the best thing in the world right now. She tries to move a little, still imprisoned by those damn branches.</p>
<p>"Tardivat," she calls quietly, her voice hoarse. When it is clear the man didn't hear it, she repeats it, this time a little bit louder. "Tardivat!"</p>
<p>Finally the man looks up, his face is in the complete dark but Grace can quite see the big smile as he speaks to her. "I hope that all the trees in France bear such beautiful fruit this year," he says then, moving towards her.</p>
<p>"Don't give me that French shit," she replies sharply. That really isn't the time nor place for banter. "Help me out, I think I have something inside my arm and I can't come down."</p>
<p>"I'll come up to you, milady," he says, starting to climb up the tree. He reaches her with unimaginable ease that has Grace somehow impressed. Henri grabs his knife and starts cutting the chute whenhe suddenly stops. "Wait, let me see that arm first."</p>
<p><em>Right</em>, the arm. Kraut artillery stopped for a few seconds, leaving Henri to try and identify the damage in the complete dark by touching the wound. Grace knows how to handle the pain well enough, so she just squeezes her eyes and lets out a feeble groan.</p>
<p>"You have nothing in your arm, Grace, don't worry," states Henri, starting to cut the chute laces once again. "Hold up on that big branch, don't want you to fall. Can you climb down?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, think so," Grace moans, finally untangling herself from that damned parachute. "Just step aside, I can't from this position."</p>
<p>"I'll go first, in case you fall I'll take you," he suggests and starts climbing down without giving her the chance to respond. Well, that was nice of him. She's not used to people being nice to her, not even with Captain Henri Tardivat to be honest; they disagree most of the time, heated arguments between them were common. He's a good man and a good leader, but not someone who Grace wanted to go on a mission with. Now, in that very moment when he carefully takes her at the foot of that damn tree, she feels like it was the right choice.</p>
<p>"Thank you, Tardivat," she says. Feeling the ground under her feet was a wonderful sensation. In that moment she thinks back when she was just a little dreamy kid, when she wanted to fly planes. And now, fourteen years later, she throws herself out of them. The irony. She looks at her arm and swears when she realises her uniform is all covered in blood.</p>
<p>"Don't worry, it's just a scratch," Henri reassures her, taking some stuff from the ground and fixing the bag on his shoulder. "You got your guns? Your sabotage kit?"</p>
<p>"Don't know, I was just busy hanging on a tree," she taunts him as she starts searching for her bag. "Shit."</p>
<p>"What is it?"</p>
<p>Grace looks up. "I think I saw the bag above my head before. Sorry."</p>
<p>Henri curses as he reaches the tree and begins to climb it again. Seriously, that man will end up hating her before they find the Americans. A couple of minutes pass and he's next to her once again. Grace takes her bag, but for a second she had forgotten about her aching arm which then caused her to squeak in pain as she retreats from an abrupt movement.</p>
<p>"Seems like everything's here," she affirms, rummaging in the bag. "Spanish Llama .38 is safe, the sabotage kit as well, the canteen⎯ <em>thank god,</em>" she says sipping on it for way too long. "Also, knives at their place next to the suicide pills. Only thing missing, my adorable Sten. Lost it in the jump."</p>
<p>"It doesn't matter, I have mine, so⎯"</p>
<p>"Wait," Grace interrupts him, suddenly realising something. "We need to find Rake."</p>
<p>Henri bites his lip, but Grace can't see it with the dark now surrounding them again: Germans must have moved their guns, she hasn't heard a single bullet in the last few minutes.</p>
<p>"Denis is dead," Henri says, as he starts walking. "Found him before I found you. He fell right on a broken tree trunk, tough luck I'd say."</p>
<p>"What about the radio?" she asks, immediately regretting being so abrupt. Their friend is dead, after all. But that isn't really the time to grieve. "Did you take the radio?"</p>
<p>Henri scoffs. "Who do you think you're talking to? Of course I took it! It's not like our radios grow on these fucking trees, Grace."</p>
<p>"Well, sorry, I had to check. You never know with you French people."</p>
<p>"Thanks for that," he says ironically. "The radio's broken, by the way. We'll have to get it fixed by the Americans if we want to go home."</p>
<p><em>Great</em>, she thinks, bleakly. The SOE's radios are special radios: they had to take special training to operate the radio alone, it's not like classic military radio. It's way more tricky and difficult to handle and it works only in codes. Grace hopes with all her strength that the Americans will be able to fix it when they find them. <em>If </em>they find them. When they had parachuted, the drop zone was near Sainte-Mère-Église, but honestly she doesn't have a clue about where they are now.</p>
<p>"Check the compass, Tardivat," Grace says, trying to ignore her arm pounding in pain.</p>
<p>"We're close," he says. "Already checked it before meeting you." Good, that was good news at least. "And stop calling me <em>Tardivat, </em>you know my name, why won't you use it."</p>
<p>"You know I can't, Tardivat. I can't... not yet."</p>
<p>She was starting to think that <em>maybe</em> the mission is not a complete disaster, when she hears voices. Her hearing was far better than Henri's, so she grabs his arm and forces him to stay down.</p>
<p>"Voices," she mouths, hoping he would see her and hear the voices too.</p>
<p>There are a few seconds of silence, then the voices begin again and this time Henri hears it too because they are just a couple of metres from them. They stay put, even when Grace realises they are friendly voices: she could recognise an American accent from miles away, but Henri clearly doesn't because he accidentally makes some dry leaves creak while taking out his Sten.</p>
<p>"<em>Flash?</em>" they hear. Flash? What?</p>
<p>Grace curses to herself, not knowing what to do. She wants to reveal herself but at the same time she is afraid that word is a password and if they didn't hear the password back, they would shoot.</p>
<p>Beside her, Henri must have realised they weren't Germans, but he still kept his hands firmly onto the gun.</p>
<p>"We're friends, please put your guns down and we'll show ourselves," she tries, hoping for the best. Maybe hearing another American accent they would come out to the open. She is familiar with these kinds of things, but her heart is pounding so fast in her chest nevertheless. It's war, you can expect anything to happen.</p>
<p>What Grace wasn't expecting to happen is a voice saying: "Was that a woman's voice or am I still woozy over those air sickness pills?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you guys for reading! I hope you liked this prologue!</p>
<p>Just a couple of things: this convo "I hope that all the trees in France bear such beautiful fruit this year,"/"Don't give me that French shit," happened in real life between Nancy and Henri! I just had to put it, I thought it was really funny and fit for this chapter!</p>
<p>And another thing: Spanish Llama .38 and Sten were SOE weapons for real! And they used to also bring suicide pills just in case they were captured.</p>
<p>Oh, another thing, this time about me: I freaking live for cliffhangers, so you'll find them quite often ahahaha :D</p>
<p>See you next time, I hope!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Day of Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A huge thanks to Angelica (@hellitwasyoufirstsergeant) and Dan (@sunnyshifty) for helping me out here! Ily &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Grace can't help but roll her eyes in disbelief.</p><p>"For chrissake, Lieb, say it louder maybe?" comes a second sarcastic voice, and yeah, Grace agrees with the man. If they had been enemies, this Lieb would definitely be dead by now. Luckily for them, right there between the bushes, there are only two spies who also happen to be their chance to destroy the German Army.</p><p>"Oh my god, <em>seriously?</em>" she tries something, hoping that a little banter would make them interpret it as the fact that they were friends. "The first thing that concerned you was my <em>female</em> voice?"</p><p>Grace looks at Tardivat, who was already staring at her. She hopes her questioning look would do the job, and when he nods she's positive she did the right thing.</p><p>She raises her hands in the air, her left arm still aching like hell, but this isn't the place nor the time to complain. When Grace realises that no one dared to say a word, she concludes that the Americans are possibly taking the same cautious approach, so she forces herself to stand up completely and try something else.</p><p>"I'm SOE," Grace says. "I'm here with the leader of the French Resistance, our radioman has been killed during the jump. We're here on a military mission, we come from England."</p><p><em>Please</em>, let them be<em> them</em>.</p><p>Soon after Grace's little speech, a few figures appear from behind some trees not far from her and Henri; the men still have their weapons ready, as they approach her quickly.</p><p>"I'm standing up too," Henri warns them, before he's right there next to her.</p><p>There are four soldiers in total, Grace couldn't quite tell if it is just them due to the dark night sky, or if there are others behind the trees, but she is pretty sure that it's just them. Grace and Henri still have their hands up in the air, but the pain in her arm is starting to become really unbearable so she tries to lower it down a little, hoping the soldiers wouldn't notice thinking she is trying to reach her weapon and then shoot her where she stands.</p><p>"I might have expressed myself a little too loud, lady," a voice declares, the first voice she had heard that night, that <em>Lieb</em>, "but you saying all that stuff wasn't that smart either, if you really are who you say you are."</p><p>"I guessed who you are," Grace replies, knowing that the man was absolutely right, but she doesn't want to give it to him. "And my guesses are always right. However, I'm American, I recognised the accent."</p><p>"Sorry, m'am," another one says, pointing at her bag. "We have to be sure, please hand your bag over, just a little check. Yours too," he then addresses to Henri's direction.</p><p>Fair point. The Americans search through their bags, it takes them five seconds to find the pills.<br/>"What's this?" demands one. Even in the dark, Grace could tell he was kind of <em>massive </em>in stature.</p><p>"Suicide pills, soldier."</p><p>"Suicide pills? You're kidding?" intervenes another man, slapping back the radio into Henri's bag and joining them. Grace recognises the voice as the second one she had heard that night. A warm voice, pleasing even. He takes the pills from his comrade's hand and rolls the box in his own. "What do you need them for?"</p><p>"What do you think?" Grace scoffs. "We're from intelligence, if they catch us and there's no way we can escape, <em>that </em>becomes the only way."</p><p>The soldier seems to understand what Grace meant, she can't really see his features but she figures he got the message when she sees he's handing her bag back.</p><p>"Got you, lady," he apologises then.</p><p>"Alright, everybody," the man who had just asked them to hand over their bags before breaks off, moving towards Grace. "I'm Lieutenant Harry Welsh, we've been warned about Operation Jedburgh. You'll be coming with us, we're heading to the meeting point. I saw the guns in your bags, I suggest you keep them closer. You might need them."</p><p>Grace reaches her Spanish Llama and secures it in her hand. The feeling is familiar, and so wonderful in that very moment.</p><p>"You guys are lucky," Lieutenant Welsh continues. "You landed near the drop zone. We've been walking for hours by now, but we should be there soon. Couple of hours, maybe, all depends on how many Krauts we'll have the pleasure to encounter."</p><p>"Who said we dropped here?" Henri comments, squeezing closer to Grace. "I tumbled to the ground a few miles that way, took me an hour to find our radioman dead and her trapped in a tree."</p><p>The group starts walking, plunging into the deep forest. Grace lets Welsh and the other Americans lead them without questioning: one less thing to worry about, finding a way to Sainte-Mère-Eglise.</p><p>"I'm Grace," she declares, keeping up with the Lieutenant. "Grace Whitehead. My associate here is Captain Henri Tardivat. Only COs from the 101st Airborne, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment are aware of Operation Jedburgh, I'm assuming you're one of them."</p><p>"I am, m'am," Welsh responds, while Grace starts hearing whispers behind her back: it was clear by now none of the other soldiers had a clue about what was happening. "Colonel Robert Sink told us about you guys just a couple of days ago. Was quite a surprise, but we're glad to take whatever you're willing to offer."</p><p>Of course they've been told about the operation two days before the jump: Grace, Henri and Denis were told just about the same time. That's why Grace was suspicious and irritated by the whole thing from the very beginning: they're spies, they've been trained for years to be prepared for any eventuality, they should be used to this. Truth is this time is different, this time is a <em>huge</em> opportunity to weaken the German Army, and things should have been handled better.</p><p>Grace is about to respond, when a voice from behind finally asks: "Care to enlighten us?" The boy approaches her, he was the first voice from before. "I'm Joe, Joe Liebgott."</p><p>"Nice to make your acquaintance, Joe," Grace replies. "Sorry, can't utter a word until it's safe. That's the orders, I'm sure you understand."</p><p>"Yeah, gotcha," Liebgott answers, but she notices his tone was a little bit skeptical. "Come on, fellas, don't be rude, get yo asses over here and introduce yourselves to this lady and the captain."</p><p>Henri was talking to Lieutenant Welsh, so he probably didn't hear a word. The other two men come closer, the massive one on her right side while the one other one, with the pleasing voice, walks near Liebgott.</p><p>"Denver Randleman," the massive man introduces himself. He's at least a head and a half taller than Grace, and she couldn't help but think he could crush her just by giving her a high five. "The men call me Bull."</p><p>"Well, nice to meet you, Bull, I'm Grace."</p><p>"George Luz at your service, lady," says the one with the warm voice. "I'm a radioman, in case you need help with your broken radio I might try to give it a look." While Grace tries to remember when she had mentioned their radio was broken, he adds: "I couldn't see well in the dark, but your radio seemed to have a few pieces out of place."</p><p>Grace has by now lost track of time, but she can see the sunrise starting to break through, finally revealing some features of the soldiers, so they don't look just like black silhouettes anymore. They are young, younger than she thought. Maybe her age, more or less. She wonders if they would think the same about her, once the dawn would reveal her young features.</p><p>Grace loves the night sky, but now she's so relieved that that hell of a night is almost over.</p><p>"Thanks, George," Grace thanks him then, trying to catch a glimpse of his face: he looks nice in the dim lights, his lineaments reflecting his cheerful voice. "You might try, but mind this ain't one of your radios. It's a code radio. You can handle it?"</p><p>Luz snickers. "Pft, I can handle all types of radio. I'll give it a go when we arrive, promise."</p><p>The group finally reaches the edge of the forest, heading towards a small and narrow river. They walk for some time, following the course of the river as it guides them to the village where they are to be expected. Luckily they don't encounter any Germans along the way, Grace is still in pain, her arm becoming more numb by the minute. Having to deal with ambushes or having to fight hand-to-hand with men would be a problem in her condition. In all of the operations and missions she's been involved in, there have been times where she would have to fight even when she wasn't able to. For god's sake she had a specific training for that. However today she couldn't repress her arm's pain which is slowly impacting her mentality.</p><p>"Roe will have you fixed up nice, don't worry," Randleman reassures her at some point, when he sees her eyeing her arm warily, as if she expected for it to fall off at any minute. "He's our best medic."</p><p>"Can't wait to meet this Roe, honestly."</p><p>The Americans are nice. At least, <em>those </em>Americans are. Grace spends the journey to Sainte-Mère-Eglise observing them, trying to understand their characters. It's her job, after all, to observe people, catching glimpses of their lives just by watching them crossing the street or sipping their coffee in cafés. To analyse situations, to <em>understand </em>them and build profiles from the smallest of details. Her job has never been easy, but Grace has always managed to handle it perfectly.</p><p>The soldiers have asked her some stuff during the journey, from how she got into war and why she joined SOE. Chatting with those men is nice, Grace tells them about her home in America and her arrival in England. She hasn't really had a steady home since her family got transferred there, with her job and her husband having a home in France. Grace doesn't tell them about her husband just yet, she just implies she has been too busy with her job to be able to settle down properly.</p><p>Lieutenant Welsh is quite the character, something you wouldn't expect from an officer. He talked most of the time with Henri, so she hasn't had the chance to properly know him, but he seems quite funny. Instead, she's stuck in the back with Liebgott, Luz and Randleman.</p><p>Randleman is quiet, Grace had found him observing her sometimes, as if he's trying to capture something from her. She views Liebgott as the male version of herself: he's witty, <em>very</em> witty. She liked him immediately, his humor and his view of the war were exactly hers. Just a few hours isn't enough time to get to know someone properly, so those are just first thoughts. Not to mention she has always had trust issues, so the fact that she likes them doesn't mean she also trusts them. Not yet.</p><p>And then Luz, George Luz. The radioman. They've been talking for not even three hours yet he's already doing impressions of Tardivat. <em>Very good</em> impressions of Tardivat, but she will never admit that. He's nice, funny, intelligent. Like Henri Fiocca, her husband. God, he reminds Grace of her late husband.</p><p>Grace has always been a little taken aback from people like Luz and Henri: truth is, she's been a reserved person all her life. Having people like them around was always a pleasure, sure, but it was somehow suffocating at first. She didn't know how to act around them, she felt uncomfortable whenever she had to respond to jokes or just hilarious conversations. She was like that, before.</p><p>Then Grace met Henri and her world changed. <em>She</em> changed. Living with him for years she realised that a carefree and joyful personality was just what she needed to have around. Until Adolf Hitler took her husband, the love of her life, away from her a few months back. Now she is stuck in a life without Henri and she is just walking side by side with his long lost twin.</p><p>"We're here, thank fuck!" Lieutenant Welsh shouts, startling Grace from her thoughts. As she looks up she can see a small muddy path and, at the end, a few very small figures walking around some bombed buildings. After a night of horrors, they made it. She searches for Henri's face, and when he turns around to meet her gaze, she can tell he's relieved too. The first part of Operation Jedburgh is now a success: finding the 101st Airborne safe and sound. Well, technically it's only a half success because Denis Rake, their radioman, had been killed by a tree and Grace's arm is about to die as well.</p><p>"Fucking finally," Luz snorts, nudging her a little. "Ready to meet the boys? Hoobler will be over the moon for this, he's ass deep in spy material, it's ridiculous. Apart from that, they're all nice. But don't ask Toye about the importance of knives in war or he won't shut up."</p><p>"No offence, but right now the only person I can't wait to meet is your medic," Grace blurts out as they enter the path; it is a real mess, her boots almost getting lost in the mud. No wonder they had postponed D-Day. "However, I agree with this Toye. I couldn't go on a mission without my Fairbairn Sykes fighting knife! It's saved my ass more times than not."</p><p>"Sure thing, lady," Luz gifts her a comforting smile. "I'll take you to Roe, meanwhile I can take a look at that radio of yours."</p><p>"Thank you, George," she concedes a small smile, hoping that the pain she's feeling in this right moment wouldn't turn it into an odd grimace. "That'd be truly wonderful."</p><p>The struggle of walking on that route ends as they approach the village. From afar, Grace sees a series of bodies lying on the ground. Dead bodies. She doesn't even have the time to process that information, when Henri grabs her by the arm.</p><p>"Grace, we need to take you to the medic first, okay? Then we'll go find Headquarters and get this thing done."</p><p>"Actually," she says, looking up at Luz, "George here is taking me to their medic <em>and </em>he's gonna try and fix the radio. I think you should go find the COs and warn them of our arrival. Maybe Lieutenant Welsh can take you to them. I'll be there as soon as I can."</p><p>Henri looks at Luz with narrowed eyes, to which he responds with just a shrug. It's pretty clear to Grace that Henri doesn't trust them still, but she's positive George Luz won't be a problem of any kind.</p><p>"Okay," Henri says, rummaging in his bag and emerging with the radio. He hands it to Luz, who's looking at it like he's just seen an alien. Earlier in the pitch dark it might have looked like a normal military radio, but now in the sunlight it's clear it's a whole new different gadget. "Treasure it with your own life. And please fix it for us, we need it to head back home."</p><p>"I'll do what I can," Luz answers, a little bit taken aback by Henri's asperity. He stares at the radio, and it's crystal clear he has never seen a code radio in all his life. "Even though... never mind, I'll have it ready for you. Don't want you to miss home!"</p><p>Grace chuckles softly, raising an eyebrow at Henri. Well, he had it coming.</p><p>Meantime they reach the dead bodies Grace had seen earlier, and she is relieved to notice they are all Germans. <em>Were</em>. Whatever, she doesn't care. Grace has been fighting in this war for four years now; as soon as they got to know her name, the Gestapo had been giving her a hard time. They had her followed everywhere, tapping her phone calls and intercepting her mail. So many times Grace found herself on the verge of death, and so many times she was smart - and lucky - enough to get away. They call her the <em>White Mouse</em>, due to her ability to escape from the clutches of the SS.</p><p>Her life has been non-stop since the fall of France to Nazi Germany in 1940. Soon after that, she became a courier for the Pat O'Leary escape network, led by Ian Garrow; as a member of the escape network, she helped Allied airmen evade capture by the Germans and escape to Spain. The Germans became aware of her just a few years later, so she escaped to Spain as well and continued on to England.</p><p>Grace hates Germany, the Germans and Adolf Hitler with all she had. The atrocities they have committed, all the friends she has lost to their ridiculous cause... <em>her husband. </em>He was French, the cause was close to his heart, and to Grace's heart by extension. The Gestapo captured him just a few days before Grace ran to Spain: they were on a mission, here in France, but they got separated and they had agreed to meet each other again in Spain. Grace waited, she waited for him for three agonising weeks, then she got the news he was captured, tortured, and then killed. What hurt the most was that they tortured him for her whereabouts. <em>He died to save her life</em>. It's been months and she still can't get over it. Probably never will.</p><p>"Jeez, what did you do to these crooks?" asks Welsh to another soldier, who was approaching them. Grace watches as soldiers are moving out the bodies away from the street.</p><p>The soldier lights himself a cigarette, before offering one to Welsh, who accepts. Grace wonders if it was him who shot those prisoners. Given the high level of those glares and the lack of interest in observing his men taking care of the dead, it might be.</p><p>"Division wants no prisoners," he explains, so calmly as if he was just commenting on the weather. He then spots Grace and Henri. "Who this? I ran out of ammo."</p><p>Welsh points at them, chuckling. "Woah, no, they're good. Intelligence, coming from England."</p><p>The soldier raises a brow. "Operation Jedburgh?" So, he's a CO, then.</p><p>"Yes, sir," Henri confirms, just when Grace was about to do so. "Henri Tardivat, captain and leader of French Resistance. This is my partner, Grace Whitehead."</p><p>Grace gives him a look, her forehead creased. "Partner?" she questions him, then turns her eyes to the other men. "It happens that I've been given command of this mission from the very start, my <em>subaltern </em>clearly doesn't know what he's talking about."</p><p>Silence falls for a few moments, where all the men are looking in her direction - except for Randleman, who had reached a fellow comrade not so long ago. Probably since they found each other in the woods, she might have forgotten to delineate she was in charge. Surely the men took for granted that Henri was the leader, when she mentioned earlier that he was a captain, they rightly assumed he was also the captain of the operation.</p><p>The looks on their faces are so priceless she feels like it would have been a great picture.</p><p>Liebgott breaks the silence with a whistle.</p><p>"Lieutenant Ronald Speirs," the soldier only says, staring at her as if he's trying to figure out if she's someone that needs to be worried about. Then his gaze stops just above her arm. "I suggest you guys hurry up."</p><p>When they finally reach the village, Grace's first thoughts go to something really out of contest: it's finally daylight and she has no idea how her appearance must look right now. Her SOE combat uniform is a mess, she has holes in her pants and she soon realises her legs were wounded at some point because she can spot some blood on the fabric. They must be just some scratches, she doesn't feel any pain. However, the sleeve of her injured arm is completely red, and she doesn't know if soldiers are looking up at her in disbelief for that or simply for the fact she's a woman. And her face... Jesus, she doesn't want to think about that. Grace feels like she's wearing a mask made of dirt, her brown hair must be a proper mess, with leaves and bits of branches all over it.</p><p>Grace never felt so ugly like in that very moment.</p><p>"Got yourself a chick, eh, Luz?" someone says passing by them.</p><p>"Back off, idiot," Luz responds, and she mentally thanks him for that. "Have you seen Doc Roe?"</p><p>The guy turns to them again, shrugging. Then he sees Grace's red sleeve. "Sorry, man, haven't seen him. Try over there, fellas set up an aid station."</p><p>"Thanks, Smokey."</p><p>Luz waves at her to follow him, so she does. Grace can't wait to get her arm back again, she's not really sure that's just a scratch. She looks around, and notices how few soldiers there are: Grace expected it to be many more, but clearly the jump didn't go that well for the Airborne last night. She's pretty sure many must have been killed during the jump, she herself has seen Kraut's artillery going crazy towards the sky. When Grace and Luz walk near two soldiers that are reading a map, she catches just a: "... ninety percent of the soldiers are still unaccounted for."</p><p><em>Yikes</em>, she thinks.</p><p>"Gene!" Luz yells, and a man a few feet from them smiles at him. "Got some work for ya. This lovely lady is Grace," Grace isn't sure about 'lovely', especially in that moment. "She got some shit in her arm, I'll leave her to ya."</p><p>"Hi, I'm Eugene Roe. Gene or Roe will do," the man says and Grace just nods in his direction. "Let me take a look."</p><p>"I'm gonna work on that radio of yours, you're in good hands," Luz says smiling brightly as if he is just about to have the time of his life. "I'll find you when I'm done."</p><p>"Thank you again, George. For everything."</p><p>"Don't mention it," Luz says, waving a hand. "Let's get you fixed up, eh? And, please, only my mum and Perco call me <em>George. </em>It's just Luz."</p><p>Then he's gone, fiddling with the foreign radio as he walks away from Grace, who's wondering what a <em>Perco </em>might be.</p><p>Roe studies her arm first, ripping the fabric with a knife - it was already ruined, so that was not really a problem - and analyses the wound. He says a branch must have cut through her arm, but the injury is a superficial wound, nothing too serious. Grace isn't convinced at all, because she has had loads of injuries over the past few years and at this point she's able to recognise a superficial wound to a more serious one herself. </p><p>She gets her answer when Roe leads her inside a bombed house, where the soldiers had it fixed up as an aid station. There's no one in bad condition, for now, just a few soldiers with small injuries. Roe has her sit on a chair far from the others and asks her if she can take off her jacket so he can work on her arm better. Grace does that, and as soon as Roe sees her arm he immediately shakes his head; her shoulder is dislocated, must have happened when she landed harshly on that tree. That pain plus the wound, that by now must have been infected, might have been the cause of her major torment.</p><p>The medic counts on to three before popping her shoulder back in. Grace squints in pain, but she doesn't say a word. The cut on her arm is a little bit worse than Roe thought at first and, when Grace dares to look at it, she realises it's a very deep cut from the head of her shoulder to almost the elbow.</p><p>Roe spends the next twenty minutes cleaning up the wound and putting some stitches on it. Grace feels already better, probably the dislocation itself was what caused her more distress.</p><p>"Thank you, truly," she beams at the medic. "I feel better already!"</p><p>"It's my job, ma'am," Roe answers then, starting to throw out all the bloody bandages. "Just try to keep it clean, change the bandage at least once a day."</p><p>Grace nods, then waves at him as she exits the house. It looks like there are more soldiers wandering around now, but maybe it's just her imagination. God, she's so happy that she is finally feeling better that she almost feels like hopping around trying to find Henri and the COs. They need to get this thing done as soon as possible. Now that her arm has been cleaned up nicely, she feels all her focus back again on the mission.</p><p>She's about to start looking for the French Resistance leader, when he appears right beside her with two other men.</p><p>"Ah, Grace!" Henri almost yells with joy.</p><p>"Lieutenant Meehan?" Grace tries, ignoring Henri, and saluting the man, shaking his hand soon after.</p><p>The man's face darkens a little as he starts talking. "I'm Major Strayer, nice to meet you. Lieutenant Meehan is still missing, sadly. Reports are saying his plane was hit, but we're not sure yet."</p><p>"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. I was told to report to a certain Lieutenant Meehan but I think a Major would do just fine," Grace says, earning a small smile from the Major. "I believe my <em>subaltern</em>," she starts again, giving a daring look to Henri, who rolls his eyes, "already told you about Operation Jedburgh?"</p><p>"He gave me some clues, but we were waiting for you, miss."</p><p>"Perfect. Is there any place we can talk?"</p><p>"Yes, right⎯"</p><p>"<em>Grace?</em>"</p><p>Grace hears a familiar voice calling her name, but it wasn't familiar like Luz's, or Liebgott's, or Randleman's, or any voices she heard recently. It sounded familiar like <em>home</em>.</p><p>She turns to the voice and sees a man standing a few meters from her. He seems both taller and a lot older than when she last saw him; his features are covered in dark face paint and dirt, the helmet slightly bent on his head. The man takes it from his head and brings it near his chest, revealing his ginger hair that Grace has always envied.</p><p>Then his confused look turned into a big smile.</p><p>"<em>Rich?</em>"</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello! Thank you for reading! Just a couple of quick infos before you go.<br/>- Nancy Wake was truly called the <i>White Mouse</i> by the Germans;<br/>- in real life she joined the French Resistance <i>before</i> joining SOE, I mixed some things up to make her fit better in my story. Also, this part <i>"she became a courier for the Pat O'Leary escape network, led by Ian Garrow; as a member of the escape network, she helped Allied airmen evade capture by the Germans and escape to Spain. The Germans became aware of her just a few years later, so she escaped to Spain as well and continued on to England"</i> is TRUE;<br/>- her husband has been captured, tortured and killed for real;<br/>- Nancy was the captain in most of her missions, she was a true badass!<br/>- last but not least, I did some research but I basically know nothing about code radios x) so whatever you're going to read from now on, is my pure invention.<br/>That said, can't wait to see you at the next chapter! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Operation Jedburgh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello there! Welcome to another chapter!</p><p>Things are slowly getting there, please be patient with me! Also, I know a lot of you ship Grace and Richard already but, spoiler: it ain't THE ship hahah!</p><p>As always a huge thank you to Angelica and Dan for cleaning this mess from all the grammar impurities! Stay with me until the end for some more notes/curiosities about real facts and events! Hope you like it  ❤</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p><em>The cigarette is wearing out in Grace's hand, but she doesn't care. </em> <em>The sun is shining bright in Lancaster that day, she wishes it could possess the same power to grant her a spotless mind, moving away those clouds that are her thoughts.</em></p><p><em>"Can you believe that?" she asks Richard for the millionth time, who is sitting on a brickwork. He gives her a look, but doesn't say anything. "War has broken out in Europe and my father thinks the smartest move is to relocate his own family where? In fucking London! Can... you... believe... </em>that?<em>"</em></p><p>
  <em>It's been a few hours since her father came home with the news, and she still can't wrap her head around it. Grace throws the cigarette butt behind her, starting to walk nervously back and forth.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I don't know what to say, Grace," Richard says after a while. "Do you have a date yet?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Next week. Father has to sort some things out with the Navy and then we're gone," Grace grumbles, shaking her head. "I can't believe him, Rich. I just can't. Why is he doing this to us?"</em>
</p><p><em>For her whole life she had dreamed about serving her country somehow, and now she is forced to leave it to go to Europe. She is seventeen years old, and her devilish father hates her and her mother enough to bring them with him to freaking </em>war<em>. If he was to be shipped to Europe, why wouldn't he leave them safe in America? It's what every good parent would do.</em></p><p>
  <em>But the saddest thing is that she will have to say goodbye to her best friend, and Grace isn't sure if she's ready for that.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I don't wanna even think how I'll survive without you keeping me on track."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Richard's mouth curved into a small smile. "You'll do just fine."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"What kind of answer is that?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"All I'm saying," he starts to explain, raising his hands in defence, "is that you're going to be okay. You're smart, you're brave, if anything it's me you'll have to be worried about. Who will be my girls advisor? Who's going to drag me out of bed on weekends? I'm gonna miss you too, but we'll be in touch, of course!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"It's not the same, though," Grace pouts and in that moment she feels eight all over again. "Here, I can just open the door and walk three seconds before finding you. I can't just think of sending you a letter that will take three months only to reach the States!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"When the war reaches us, I'll have to go away, anyway," Richard explains, but Grace knows he's just trying to make up excuses to reassure her, even though they're not really working if she's being honest. "So we won't be able to be together in any case."</em>
</p><p><em>"</em>If <em>the war comes to America."</em></p><p><em>"</em>When<em>," he corrects her, kindly. Grace knows he's right, but she doesn't want to give up so soon. "I'll send you letters, I promise, Gracie."</em></p><p>
  <em>Grace sighs, then she joins him on the brickwork. "Promise?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Promise," he insists, while taking her in his arms. "We're friends, I won't even think about leaving you even if you're moving to another country. You'll always be my little, stubborn monkey."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Gosh, if your mother ever heard this she might start looking up for bouquets."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"She might've already done that, I'm afraid," Richard jokes and Grace huffs out a laugh. "I can tell sometimes she tries to gather information about you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"She doesn't understand," Grace smirks, shaking her head. "They don't understand. No one will ever understand our bond, our special friendship, Rich."</em>
</p><p> </p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p> </p><p>Grace stands there, her arms dead alongside her body, her mouth slightly open making her look like a fish. She has always had the suspicion that Richard would enlist, he's always said that if the war ever reached their country he would want to volunteer for the cause. But what were the chances that he would be shipped out to England and then jump into Normandy at the exact same time as Grace? What were the chances that they would meet on the Day of Days? Apparently the chances were high, but she couldn't believe her eyes anyway.</p><p>Grace's disbelief didn't prevent her from throwing herself in his friend's arms. In all these years they've been separated, she has forgotten the scent of his skin, the warmth of his hugs, and she feels so ashamed as if she's somehow betrayed him. They stay like that for some time, a few seconds, a few minutes, a few decades, she doesn't care; her friend is here, more real than ever, and for the first time in almost a year she is <em>happy</em>.</p><p>When Grace breaks the hug, she glances up at Richard - yikes, when did he become <em>that</em> tall? - and loses herself a little in his sapphire eyes.</p><p>"Grace, I thought you were dead."</p><p>And, wow, that's the last thing she expected to hear from him. But she can't blame him for having these doubts, it was her who stopped answering his letters. It was her who cut ties. All in all, it was all her fault.</p><p>"I'm not. I mean, <em>clearly</em>, I'm very much alive," she mumbles, starting to think that maybe their little reunion was making the men around them uncomfortable. Herni Tardivat knows who Richard is, Grace has talked about him sometimes. But maybe the other men are probably wondering what the hell is going on. "Sorry I never responded to your letters, like, it's hard to explain. A very long and complicated story," she continues.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" he just asks, his hands still on Grace's arms.</p><p>"I'm SOE," she shrugs. "I'm here to deliver intelligence."</p><p>"<em>You </em>are Operation Jedburgh?"</p><p>"Aye, friend," she confirms, then her look sets on Richard 's jacket. "I mean, <em>Lieutenant Winters. </em>Myself and the Captain of French Resistance, Henri Tardivat," Grace then says, gesticulating towards Henri behind her. "Our radioman died in the jump, so now it's just the two of us."</p><p>Grace can tell Richard is trying to maintain demeanor in front of his comrades, but deep down he's as happy as her to finally be together again. And knowing him, he's probably eager of information, and Grace is too, just... there will be a time for that.</p><p>"Sorry, Major," Grace attempts, turning to Major Strayer, who was apparently talking to Henri until a moment before. "Lieutenant Winters and I have known each other since when we were kids, it's just− so odd and unexpected finding each other here out of all places, after all these years."</p><p>Major Strayer nods, unimpressed. "That's fine. Let's get this over with, if you mind following me." </p><p>While they're walking towards the building, she notices a lot of soldiers eyeing her, perhaps wondering what the heck is a woman in a foreign uniform doing there. Grace isn't bothered, honestly, she's used to it. Again, she is uncertain if they are looking at her because she is a female or because her appearance is so terrible, especially with a full sleeve all covered in blood and her hair more disheveled than a swallow's nest. When Roe treated her earlier, she recalls there was a small mirror next to the chair: she didn't dare look.</p><p>When they enter the building there are other men scattered all over the place, clearly waiting for them, a big map spread on the table.</p><p>"So, Operation Jedburgh," Major Strayer announces to the small crowd as he reaches the table. "These are Miss Grace Whitehead and Captain Henri Tardivat, from the Special Operations Executive and French Resistance, respectively. This," he says then indicating to the man next to him: Grace hadn't noticed him before, but now she can't help but think he's quite handsome, "is Lewis Nixon, our 2nd Battalion intelligence officer."</p><p>Lewis Nixon nods, blinking at her. "We were expecting you, French people."</p><p>"I'm American from head to toes," Grace says in a firm tone without batting an eye and, when she notices that Nixon was a little bit taken aback by the surprise, her mouth curves into a small smile that practically says 'I'm just messing with you, bro'.</p><p>"That's even better," Nixon smiles eventually. "So, guys, what have you got?"</p><p>Finally the time has come. It's always like that, with her job: owning secret information is always a heavy burden in the chest, and she's never felt completely safe until she has delivered them. It's her job, yes, but she's human too.</p><p>Grace clears her throat then takes a deep, deep breath. "We have the complete mapping of all the Krauts' cannons here in France. All of them."</p><p>Grace didn't know what kind of intelligence they were expecting, but at that moment they are so impressed that she fears they were expecting something like 'Eisenhower sends his regards', maybe with a little card, or something like that.</p><p>"Woah," says Nixon, starting to contemplate the map already.</p><p>"Are we sure about that?" Strayer asks, lifting an eyebrow.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Major, do you think we would throw ourselves out of a plane in the middle of war if we weren't sure?" Grace immediately inquires, because, <em>really? </em>They are SOE, Special Operations Executive, not Stupid Operations Elìte.</p><p>Grace doesn't wait for Strayer to answer, instead she approaches the map, making a couple of officers step aside without even bothering with manners. "If you would hand me a marker...?"</p><p>"You could just give us the maps, we would transcribe the cannon's whereabouts with no trouble," hints one of the men that she had just pushed away. Grace huffs out a laugh.</p><p>"With due respect, I'm a <em>spy,</em> do you think I carry maps in my bra?" she says, a muscle in her jaw twitches. "Thanks to my competence and skills as an agent, it's all here, in my head. Now, if you would hand me a marker, I'll tell you where the Krauts' guns are."</p><p>Grace's eyes search for Richard, still at her side: he's staring at her as if he still couldn't believe she's there, bossing officers around. Much less a captain of military operations. When someone gives her a marker, she starts scribbling circles on the big map trying to be as neat as possible, so they won't have trouble interpreting her writing.</p><p>Grace leaves Brecourt Manor until last, because that's the most important, for now. Because it's close to Sainte-Mère-Eglise, and it has to be taken care of as soon as possible.</p><p>She indicates a spot on the map, as she starts talking. "This is Brecourt Manor, just a few miles from here. This is today's mission, Major. It can't wait any longer. Here, there's Kraut 88s. Ahead and to the right about 300 yards.Through those gardens."</p><p>The men come closer to her, following her fingers as she scribbles onto the map. She feels Richard's presence behind her, as a sort of reassurance. Grace has never needed reassurance.</p><p>"They're between us and Causeway number two. Firing on the boys landing at Utah. Can your Company handle it, sir?"</p><p>Major Strayer eyes at her like she had just blabbled heresy. Grace knew the Americans would handle Brecourt just fine, but she's feeling a little bit bitchy now, after they implied she's not smart enough for her job.</p><p>"Easy Company will handle it perfectly," he says, nodding. "Lieutenant Winters, gather your men."</p><p><em>Oh</em>, so Strayer is sending out Richard just like that? Grace didn't even have the time to greet him properly yet he is to be sent to a mission just like that, in a blink of the eye.</p><p>"Sir, Easy Company is short of men," Richard informs him. "Shouldn't we wait a little longer until the others will find the meeting point, sir?"</p><p>"Didn't you hear what Miss Whitehead just said? This matter can't wait. Ten or Twelve men would do, Winters. Choose carefully," it's the Major's final order.</p><p>"My guess they're doing some terrible damage there, Major," Grace steps in, her tone now grave. "Our fellow Americans won't be able to take the beaches if we don't help them. If <em>you</em> don't help them, by this point. I hope your men are ready for that."</p><p>Strayer nods in approval. "You also helped a lot, lady, gentleman," he says, eyes darting from her to Henri. "This map will do some good. I'll be sending it up to the Division as soon as we part."</p><p> </p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p> </p><p>"There are two guns that we know of, firing on Utah Beach. There... a third and a fourth... here and here. The Germans are in the trenches... with access to the entire battery. Machine gun covering the rear. We establish a base of fire and move under it fast with two squads of three."</p><p>Grace kept to the side, listening to Richard explain to his men the mission they are about to embark. As soon as they had entered the room, they acknowledged her presence straightaway but didn't question it; Grace found some of them still gazing in curiosity at her every now and then, but she didn't bother. Normal routine, nothing new.</p><p>"How many Krauts do you think we're facing?" asks the man in front of Richard.</p><p>Richard gives him the eye, uncertain. "No idea."</p><p>"No idea?" the other one mimics, mouth curling downwards.</p><p>"We'll take some TNT along with us. Despite the guns," Richard continues, ignoring the man's reaction. "Lipton, your responsibility," he then refers to the man next to him.</p><p>"Yes, sir," Lipton nods.</p><p>"Liebgott, you take the first machine gun, with Petty A-gunner. Plesha, Hendrix, you take the other." Grace couldn't help but think that Richard was born to be a leader: the way he talks to his men, rapid, confident, and the way they listen to him with respect, with<em> trust</em>, even if this is their first ever mission and so far they have done nothing but only training with him. That's simply impressive.</p><p>"Who does that leave?" Richard asks. A few men raise their hands dimly, so he continues. "Compton, Malarkey, Toye, Guarnere. Okay. We'll be making the main assault." Then he looks at every single one of them directly in their eyes. "Understood?"</p><p>"Yes, sir."</p><p>"Alright, let's pack it up, boys."</p><p>Just like that they all leave the room quietly. Liebgott winks at Grace, mouthing an imperceptible 'see you later, doll' before following one of his comrades - Guarnere, maybe? - out in the open.</p><p>Richard finishes organising some stuff spread on the table, before looking at her with the corner of his mouth twisted.</p><p>"You all set up?" Grace asks, approaching him with arms crossed.</p><p>"Always," he says.</p><p>"That's the spirit, Rich!" Grace exclaims, patting his shoulder.</p><p>Richard is smiling brightly, now. "No one has ever called me that since you left."</p><p>"What are they calling you, then?"</p><p>"Just Dick."</p><p>"<em>Dick?</em>" she shouts in disbelief. "I wouldn't call my best friend <em>Dick</em> for anything in the world! Oh my <em>god, </em>come on! Dick?"</p><p>"I got used to it," Richard shrugs, heading towards the door. Right, the mission. For just a tiny moment Grace forgot they were in the middle of a war; it's just wonderful talking to her friend that she hasn't seen in ages, just having him there gives a whole new taste to the mission. "The men are waiting. Gonna take out some Germans' guns then I'll be seeing you. We have a lot to catch up on, I believe."</p><p>Grace nods in consent. Yeah, she will have to be ready to explain to him everything that has happened from when she left in 1939. Grace owes him the whole story, not just bits like she's used to with other people. Truth is, she's a spy, she can't just go around narrating her life to anyone. So she always tells slices of her past mixed up with some white lies, just to pleasure others. But she finds herself lying a lot, lately, especially since Henri died, and she doesn't like that.</p><p>"I will tell you everything, promise," Grace says. "Just come back to me. Promise?"</p><p>"Promise."</p><p>Grace's eyes follow him until he reaches his men, only to see them disappear around the corner. Who knows if all of them would be coming back.</p><p>She is alone now, not knowing where to go because she doesn't know anybody. She almost slaps herself in the face at the thought, realising she completely forgot about Tardivat: he had followed Nixon outside before Richard's men arrived earlier, so maybe she should start looking for him.</p><p>Then she remembers George Luz. And the radio.<em> Fuck</em>, the radio!</p><p>Having zero knowledge of the village, she just retraces her steps to the building where Roe had treated her what seemed like hours ago. Grace is just about to round the corner, when both Henri and Luz appear. Well, if this isn't luck.</p><p>"Oh," Henri says as soon as he sees her, "look who decided to join us."</p><p>"Sorry, Tardivat, I was working you know. That's why we're here," she replies, ignoring him parroting her with 'working, yeah, yeah' and noticing the radio in Luz's hands, which is wonderful until she looks up at his sorry face. "You couldn't do it, am I right?"</p><p>Luz nibbles on his bottom lip. "Well, when I realised this devilish thing was... well, <em>devilish</em>, I went to the other radiomen of the company but no one has ever seen something like this before. You sure this ain't alien?"</p><p>"Shit," Grace curses, not knowing what to do. Without the radio, they are stuck in that place.</p><p>"I was thinking that maybe if I'd get it to the Headquarters they'd know what to do," Luz tries to comfort her. She doesn't need comforting, she needs her radio repaired so both her and Henri can go home. But she appreciates his effort, she truly does.</p><p>All three of them walk to the Headquarters, where Luz speaks to some of the men and eventually gives the radio to a tall skinny man. Grace feels a little bit uncomfortable with the radio no longer under their control, but apparently that's the only way if they want to go home.</p><p>"Thank you for everything you did for us," Grace thanks him.</p><p>"No worries, lady," he says, lighting himself a cigarette and then handing one to her. "You smoke?"</p><p>"I do, sometimes," Grace admits, accepting the cigarette from Luz and waiting for him to light it. She inhales, letting the smoke fill her chest. She then pulls in some more, waiting for her lungs to soak in it. "And now is a great time to do it."</p><p>Luz breaks a soft laugh, which Grace likes unexpectedly. "Oooh, I like the way you think!" Grace had probably gotten lost in her thoughts, because after some time she hears his voice again. "What are you thinking?"</p><p>"That I haven't pissed all day."</p><p>"That's very thoughtful of you, letting us know," comments Henri and, oh, yeah, he is there still. Perhaps she should stop forgetting about him, poor Henri, it's just that she's so overwhelmed by all they've been through in the past twenty-four hours that her mind keeps wandering around and about. From war in general to Operation Jedburgh, from her floppy arm to Richard... it's been a hell of a day.</p><p>Grace blinks at him. "As if you're not used to it."</p><p>"That's no excuse for being such a sailor!"</p><p>"Oh, <em>please, </em>Tardivat! I can't believe you," she moans, rolling her eyes so hard she almost can see her brain. "Not even my father has ever scolded me for swearing or saying rubbish. And I'm under the impression that our George here doesn't give a fuck about it. Oopsie?"</p><p>George Luz had been giggling for the past two minutes, and now gives her an are-you-even-real look as he shakes his head with a smile. "Dude, all I'm saying is you need to meet the boys because they'll adore you."</p><p>"See?" Grace gently pats Henri's arm, teasing him. "Not only he doesn't give a fuck, he also thinks his friends will find me super cool. Well, I'm not gonna fight that, so, please George Luz take us to meet your company!"</p><p>"Actually, I'm going to go and help them fix our radio," Henri decides, and Grace feels a little bit guilty, like it was her fault if he was fleeing. Henri has always been that kind of person who would rather be on his own or working than socialising, so maybe that wasn't entirely her fault after all. "Which is more important than flirting. The sooner we leave this place, the better."</p><p>Grace nods, an ounce of guilt still tingling in her chest. It's always like that with Henri Tardivat: a moment he's there, mocking her about the silliest thing, the other he's acting all ambiguous. That's one of the main reasons Grace hadn't always liked him, or trusted him. She feels bad only thinking about it now, because they've been on so many missions together and Henri has proven he's genuinely a great leader and soldier. But Grace has always struggled with people whose mood swings so conspicuously, because they change their mind so easily that she finds it hard to trust fully. She's always been very determined, certain about anything she's wanted in life; Grace has a strong and witty personality, she always sticks to her instincts.</p><p>But Henri was right after all: the sooner, the better.</p><p>Grace and Luz reach a small square with a monument in the centre, where a handful of soldiers were laying, sunbathing, still recovering from the tough night. In that moment she thinks of Richard, hoping him and his men are okay.</p><p>"Oi, Luz!" someone waves at him to get closer. "Get yo ass over here, look at Perco's new collection!"</p><p>Oh, so Perco is actually a person and not a thing, as Grace thought before when Luz named him. The man points at the so-called Perco, who's rolling up his sleeve to reveal about four or five shiny watches.</p><p>"Cool, ah?" asks Perco. "They're all ticking unlike their previous owners. Wanna trade?"</p><p>Grace cackles and it's in that moment that all their faces turn to her, apparently they didn't even see her approaching with Luz. They all have the most mixed expressions, from shocked to inquisitive and she doesn't feel like blaming them, honestly.</p><p>"Jesus Christ," says one, with a kind but confused face and ginger hair. Grace likes him already.</p><p>"I believe I have a holy name, but it ain't Jesus Christ," she responds, earning a burst of laughter. "The name's Grace, nice to meet you, boys."</p><p>"Boys, this lady is from SOE, she fucking parachuted here just to reveal to Headquarters the locations of all the Germans' cannons here in France! Can you believe it! And we wondered how long it would take us to discover all the ones harassing the Navy!" Luz chants brightly, generating a chorus of 'ooooh' from his friends.</p><p>"George, please, contain yourself."</p><p>"Stop calling me <em>George, </em>it makes me feel like our forty year old neighbour!"</p><p>"As long as you stop calling me <em>lady, </em>which is fifty years old, if you ask me!" Grace banters and she can't help but think she's known Luz for just a few hours yet it was like they've been friends since forever. It's like, when you meet someone and you immediately click as if you've known each other in a previous life. It's odd, Grace is aware of that, but it's just what she feels. It's not something very common in her life, due to her reticent personality, but when that happens it becomes a very strong sentiment.</p><p>"Okay, okay then," Luz surrenders, now gesticulating over his comrades. "So, introductions first: that idiot over there with all of the Krauts' trophies is our spaghetti lover, Frank Perconte, next to him there's Skip Muck - his name is Warren but actually no one ever remembers that - Donald Malarkey, Alex Penkala, Chuck Grant and Ed Tipper!"</p><p>The boys all smile at her, and she's happy to notice no judgment on their young faces. Usually when Grace is introduced to people to whom she must deliver intelligence, or to whom she has to act as a commander during a mission, or in general to groups of people that don't think females should be at war, she always gets judged. And worthy of little trust. So standing there, with those young and kind faces looking at her and seeing her as an equal, she calls it progress.</p><p>"It's very nice meeting you, guys, Luz here hasn't stopped babbling about you for all the journey to Sainte-Mére-Eglise," Grace gives them a lopsided grin, finding herself a spot between Tipper and Grant. "You boys feel okay?"</p><p>"Yeah, you know, we are now," Tipper answers but she can sense some tension in his words. "It's just... we don't know where the ninety percent of the company is."</p><p>Grace draws her lower lip between her teeth, remembering hearing a soldier saying those exact words earlier when she first arrived. That must be so frustrating for both the men who are lost or on their way and for the ones who are waiting for their friends' arrival. Sadly she's familiar with the feeling, things like that have happened to her a few times during missions and battles.</p><p>"They'll come," Skip Muck says to no one in particular. "They have to."</p><p>"I'm sure they're okay," Grace doesn't know what to say, when these things happen and someone tries to reassure her, there is no way they will succeed. Her mother had always taught her that when one has nothing to say, it's better for them if they just stay quiet. Grace disagrees; it's true that if you don't have something intelligent and nice to say it's better to keep quiet, but in these cases hearing a word of comfort even if it may not seem like much, maybe it's worth a lot to someone else. "Although I've been told about your Lieutenant Meehan, that's tragic."</p><p>"Yeah, pity," Luz agrees, shaking his head. "They still haven't found the plane, but some of those guys over there said they saw explode. There's no way someone managed to actually jump. So that makes Winters our company commander, now."</p><p>After that follows a few seconds of silence, Grace takes it as a way for those men to grieve their Lieutenant.</p><p>"Wait, I just realised!" Perconte jumps on the spot, his eyes going round while pointing at Grace. "You're from SOE, so that means you're a freaking <em>spy! </em>How cool is that!"</p><p>"No shit, Frank, that's what people who deliver intelligence are called!" hoots the red head, Malarkey, or something like that. Grace chuckles at them: they seriously look like kids fighting over toys.</p><p>"I indeed am a spy, mate," she smiles. "Tough job, tough life. But I chose it, just like you, eh? And to think I wanted to become a pilot when I was a kid!"</p><p>"But, ain't you too young to be doing this?" A new voice comes from behind, and Grace thinks it must be Penkala, the only one sitting behind her that has never spoken until now.</p><p>"Ain't<em> you </em>to go fighting Krauts?" Grace says, turning to look up at him who's sitting five or six steps away from her. "Being young doesn't count in this life, it doesn't mean anything. You're definitely too young to go to war, I'm definitely too young to be a spy, too. But that's how life is. As a matter of fact, in war, experiences define our age. And I'm feeling very, very old right now."</p><p>Perhaps it's been an hour since Grace has joined them, their topics have gone from war to other funnier things and it's just so nice talking to people who for a moment make her forget they're surrounded by a brutal war. However, this doesn't prevent her from taking a little break and enjoying these soldier's company. They're fun, some of them are shy and don't talk much, like Tipper and Grant, but they seem lovely as well. Muck and Perconte are the ones who are mostly interested in Grace's life, or better, they're interested in her life as a spy; they keep asking her about her qualifications and experiences and then don't even wait for her to answer that they switch immediately to other questions. It's hilarious, really, and Grace finds herself actually savoring telling them some bits about her messy life.</p><p>She tells them about knowing Richard Winters since they were kids, which has them almost shouting in amazement. She tries to explain to them the reason why she decided to join this dangerous life in the first place; they seem to understand, they don't judge and Grace appreciates that more than anything else.</p><p>Grace enlightens them with everything about her physical and psychological training, namely the most challenging one. She tells them about that time the Gestapo arrested her three years ago.</p><p>"<em>What?" </em>Luz yelps. "You've been arrested? How?"</p><p>"Well, that happens in this job, it's only a matter of luck. And how smart you are, mostly," Grace explains patiently, grinning at their surprise. "Not to brag, but I happen to be a very smart pain in the ass to the Germans. This was the first and last time I got arrested, the Gestapo calls me the <em>White Mouse</em> because I'm hard to catch. So, I got arrested in France during a mission. I'm not supposed to tell you this, but whenever I obtain any military intelligence, I'd encode it for transmitting by knitting using one-time codes hidden on a piece of silk that I use to tie up my hair, alright? Then I'd translate them using Morse code equipment - yes, Perconte, I <em>know</em> how to use Morse alphabet! Anyway, I was cycling around Chaumont sur Loire and I still don't know how it happened, but they must've found me suspicious. They took me, imprisoned me for two weeks, didn't bother to check my hair tie... then they decided I wasn't worth their time anymore, so they just released me. It was that very night that my fiancé asked me to marry him."</p><p>A freezing silence falls over them when Grace names her late husband.</p><p>"You're married, Grace? You didn't mention it!" Luz kind of protests, as if she's omitted some vital information. He seems both surprised and confused, but Grace tries not to bother that much.</p><p>"I was," she only says, starting to torture her thumb cuticles. "He got caught almost a year ago, the Gestapo tortured and killed him."</p><p>It must have been at least four or five hours since Richard and his men left and she can't help but be a little worried: they have no idea how many Germans there would be to defend the guns, it could be ten or even fifty. Are there any casualties? Is Richard okay? Grace doesn't believe in God, never did, but she prays for him to come back to her.</p><p>"But," starts Malarkey, breaking the silence. "All that stuff... so freaking badass, dude! I wish I was that smart, and brave."</p><p>"You wish well, Malark," Muck agrees, hitting his nose gently with a piece of lace. "That's some cool material you have there, Grace. So sorry about your husband, though. Oh, look who's there! Liebgott!"</p><p>Grace moves her neck so fast she hears a loud crick, but she doesn't care because Joe Liebgott is coming towards them: he's all dirty and evidently very tired, a frazzled look crosses his face but he still manages to give his buddies a small smile. His uniform looks worn-out, just as much as his face.</p><p>But despite all, that's a heavenly vision for Grace because if Liebgott is there, giving high five to Luz, it also means that Richard is back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello again, as always some info for you:</p><p>- Nancy has truly been arrested once, but I made up the story: in the process of getting out of France, she was picked up with a whole trainload of people and was arrested in Toulouse, but was released four days later. The head of the O'Leary Line managed to have her released by claiming she was his mistress and was trying to conceal her infidelity to her husband (all of which was untrue);</p><p>- the story of the hair tie is REAL, but it concerns Phyllis Latour instead of Nancy Wake! She used to ride bicycles around the area, selling soap and chatting with German soldiers and so she would obtain military intelligence... I just find it so cool I had to put it! (also, check out Phyllis' story because that woman is amazing and to this day Aug 14th 2020, she's still alive!);</p><p>- it's true the Germans used to call Nancy "the White Mouse", which is the reason I decided to call her Grace Whitehead :)</p><p>Thank you for reading, hopefully I'd see you soon &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Richard & Grace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello there! As always a huge thank you to Angelica and Dan for helping me out with this, ily so much!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The sky is dark when Grace and Richard finally manage to drag themselves away from the rest of the men, trying to find a quiet spot to spend some time enjoying each other's company. Actually, they only have one hour to rest, to get some food and gather their stuff, and then they’re moving out again. Truth is, about a half an hour ago Grace had thought that finally that day was coming to an end, but someone saw fit to contradict her. After Richard and the others came back from Brecourt Manor, they didn’t even have the time to breathe; those few men that managed to reach Saint-Mére-Eglise that day - Grace and Henri included - were almost immediately sent to secure another town not far from there. So, by night the 2nd Battalion secured Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. Elements of the 4th Division began to move men and material inland, so it was just a matter of time before they had to move out again, probably securing Culoville. Or so Grace had heard earlier.</p><p>Fact is, the 101st - including Richard’s Easy Company - is still scattered all over Normandy and Grace wonders how those guys are going to find the Battalion if it keeps on moving. She’s so wearied and exhausted and overwhelmed, but at the same time she’s so eager to talk to Richard; it’s been years since Grace has seen her best friend’s face, she wants to know everything about what’s happened to him from their last day in Lancaster just as much as she wants him to know what <em> she </em>has been through. All of it, all of the struggles and betrayal and death that she’s encountered through these last few years. She feels like it would be somewhat liberating, blurting everything out for the first time, uncensored.</p><p>As they walk, Richard is very silent next to her: in his defence he’s never been a talkative person even back then, she was always the soul of their conversations, but only with him. Grace dares to look at the man while they’re passing by a group of soldiers intent on an animated conversation: he’s tired, so knackered that Grace his exhaustion as her own. The mission that day has been half a success, Richard and the rest of his men managed to take out all of the machine guns at Brecourt Manor with only four casualties - as for Richard, he had lost a little kid from Colorado, who wasn’t even in his Company but nonetheless under Richard’s command in during the mission, - and one man shot in the ass. Grace didn’t quite catch his name, but she’s pretty sure she heard Skip Muck calling him <em> Popeye. </em>Weird.</p><p>Despite the success of the operation, the very first task of the American campaign, the men had returned to Sainte-Mére-Eglise looking like a car ran over them and practically dragged themselves around the place. As soon as she’s seen Liebgott approaching them earlier, she immediately went looking for Richard, finding him busy with other COs; she didn’t want to interfere, so she left him to his job and spent some other quality time with the boys.</p><p>Right now Grace doesn’t know where they’re heading, and probably neither does Richard, but they stop walking at some point near a crossroads due to a very beautiful and at the same time horrific panorama: a village not far away is being bombed by friendly artillery, and the night sky is coloured with many beautiful shades of orange and red. </p><p>Richard sits on the ground and Grace follows him suit, laying on the cold, dirty earth and resting her back against a stone wall.</p><p>“Scary,” she comments after some time. Richard doesn’t seem to understand at first, but then his eyes lay again on the view in front of them and the corner of his mouth twitches. “Beautiful, but scary.”</p><p>“Yeah, you can say that,” he agrees and then the silence enfolds them once again. Grace is a little bit nervous, both because she wants to spit everything out to Richard as soon as possible, and because she’s somehow scared of his judgement. He’s never been one to judge, but she’s done so many things that he would have every right to condemn her. But this is war, either you do horrible things, or might as well die before even beginning.</p><p>So, she decides to start with the most important thing.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Rich,” Grace tells, still staring at the explosions. “I’m sorry if I stopped writing to you, and that led you to the conclusion that I was dead. I’m really, really sorry.”</p><p>Richard shifts a little next to her. “When we first set foot in England, I immediately thought about searching for you. I knew you moved to London, so when I had my first weekend pass I went to the big city and asked around...you know, maybe someone knew your father, I mean, a Fleet Admiral of his importance doesn’t go unnoticed. I tried a few times, then I thought I was being stupid, because London is so big and what were the chances of someone who knows you?”</p><p>“My parents moved to Wales at some point, I don’t know, maybe after four or five months,” Grace explains, noticing how saying that out loud makes her realise how little she cares. “Never saw them again since then.”</p><p>“Yeah, but what happened, Gracie? Why did you stop the letters?” he implores her, the tone of his voice immediately growing sadder.</p><p>“Rich, I’ll tell you everything, promise,” Grace says, her tone firm as she looks at him directly in his eyes. “And I know you have all the right to judge me, but please, <em> please, </em>try to understand first. I know you will, but I need you to say it.”</p><p>There’s a moment of silence where Richard is returning the stare, surprised that she even feels the need to ask him something like that.</p><p>“Grace, you already know.”</p><p>“Okay, then,” she takes a deep breath, aware that it’s at this very moment her Day of Days officially begins. “When we first came to England, we immediately settled in a way too fancy house not far from the city centre. I believe the Army had something to do with that, but I’m not sure. It was nice, but it wasn’t home. As soon as I set foot in London, though, I knew I wouldn’t fit in. I was tired, I was missing home, missing you. So I spent a full month wandering around basically doing nothing. Father was trying to convince me to find a job to <em> entertain </em> soldiers! Can you believe that? I just ignored him, which worked for some time, but he kept harassing me and at some point he started having dinners at our house, with his <em> friends. </em> He always wanted me to participate and I knew why, but I wouldn’t give up to his inhumanity. How can you, a father, push your own young daughter to your fucking old friends? How! I already knew he was scum and vile but I couldn’t believe my eyes when he literally pushed me inside <em> his own room </em> with one of his colleagues! Before you say something, nothing ever happened, no one has ever harmed me that way. I just… I just don’t understand why he has always hated me that much, Rich. Why he always thought I’d be nothing just because I was born a woman. So, when finally the fucking Navy embarked him, I decided to take it as an opportunity to do something, to change that hell that was my life.”</p><p>Grace stops, taking another deep breath but never looking away from Richard; he deserves the truth, and he deserves the right to notice every single sign of strain in her eyes. She’s relieved she’s able to be quite steady so far, her voice hasn’t flickered not even once but she’s only at the beginning.</p><p>“As soon as my father left, I went to enlist. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking and <em> yes, </em> obviously I didn’t get in. I tried once, twice, but the Army didn’t want women, they made that clear by laughing in my face. So... I tried to pass myself off as a man. I chopped off my long hair, it was sad, but I knew what I wanted was more important than that, so I did it without regrets. They seemed to believe me at first, gosh, I was <em> this close </em> to making it! Then they discovered me. I was so upset… then when I was about to exit the building for the last time, a man approached me, saying he was from some secret forces, and at first I just laughed. He said he was interested in my determination because that was what he was looking for, but I said I wasn’t interested. After that, everywhere I go I’d find this man, Albert Sounters or a similar name, trying to convince me, but I didn’t trust him, I mean… Why would he choose <em> me? </em>A foreign girl with a bad attitude. To this day I don’t know how he did it, but he convinced me at some point. You know I can’t help curiosity and it was either him or my father pushing me to become a whore, so I decided to give it a chance. And, hell Rich, that’s the best decision I’ve ever made!”</p><p>Vivid figures appear in her mind, and Grace can’t help but be a little bit nostalgic remembering her first period at the Special Operations Executive headquarters: all the friends she made, at least half of whom are now dead, but she still treasures their souls in her heart and their faces printed permanently in her mind. Entire days of draining training, the meals at the mess hall, the parties, her roommates… everything.</p><p>“So, this is how it started then?” Richard questions her, their gazes still locked with each other’s. “This is when you became SOE.” </p><p>Grace smirks, feeling exhausted already. “This is just the beginning, Rich. I accepted to give it a try, what did I have to lose? I wasn’t even convinced that I’d pass the admission test: it was like ten pages of apparently stupid questions about life in general and how I would react to certain situations. Unexpectedly, I passed it. After that… jeez, I get goosebumps if I start thinking about the psychological tests! That’s for another day, my head is just too woozy for that now. Anyway, I had the initial training at Wanborough Manor, in Guildford. When I was told I got in, I bothered to scrabble just a few words to my parents, telling them I won’t be home for some time.Then after a couple of months SOE decided to make me a field agent, because I was a fast thinker, I was agile, they said I was a born leader, smart and a good shot. Oh, I forgot to mention, I’ve also been trained as a sniper!”</p><p>Richard’s eyes widens, which makes her chuckle a little. His surprised face is so hilarious that she manages to relax some more. Well, when they were kids it was always her who used to win prizes at the local fair, so he shouldn’t be <em> that </em> surprised.</p><p>“Anyway,” Grace continues, “it was right after that that I stopped writing to you. I don’t know the real reason for that, it just happened. I was becoming a secret agent and couldn’t think of anything else. In that moment, it felt the right thing. I’m ashamed of that, but please, please understand. After that they sent me to train at Arisaig, in Scotland. Rich, that place… oh my god, that place was so beautiful, I still keep it in my heart. After some more months I passed my course and I received parachute training by STS 51 and 51a situated near Altrincham with the RAF. Got my jump wings quickly, then attended courses in security and tradecraft at Group B schools in Hampshire. Lastly, I took a course for specialist training skills like demolition techniques and Morse code telegraphy. By now my parents had moved to Wales, and they didn’t even bother to tell me, I found out by accident.”</p><p>Saying all of the things she’s done to get where she is now, Grace thinks it must have come off very impressive. It is, if she’s being honest with herself, she worked her ass off for months to become the woman she is now. Richard seems to think the same thing, because he just can’t stop widening his eyes at everything she says.</p><p>“After nine months of training, after everything I just told you, I got my first mission ever. A small mission in France. And that’s when I met Henri, my husband.”</p><p>Richard blinks at her a couple of times, then his brows snap together. “Husband? <em> Henri </em>is your husband and you didn’t tell me?”</p><p>He seems a bit offended, as if he was expecting her to send out invitations to the wedding and make him the best man. Which, in normal circumstances, would have been great. Perfect, even. But given the world war and a couple of issues like her being a spy in Churchill’s Secret Army and Henri a member of the French Resistance, maybe that might have been a little too loud.</p><p>“No! Not Tardivat, no. My husband was Henri Fiocca, a French man,” Grace says at last, and for the first time she moves her eyes away from him. It must have been about twenty minutes in since she started her troubled story, and the bombing is still going strong. “He died last year. We met, we fell in love instantly, I’ve never felt anything like that before and probably never will, but we found each other. Henri and I kept in touch after that mission, and we met again shortly after that because the Heads of SOE wanted me to associate with French Resistance and, honestly, I couldn’t have asked for better. After a month of being in France, the Gestapo arrested me - it was the first and last arrest of my career - and when they finally released me after two weeks, that same night he asked me to marry him. Of course I said yes! He was the joy of my life! Even though our lives were in constant danger, we were each other’s happiness. We were each other's strengths. We married with just a few friends there, nothing too big because we couldn’t afford it in any way. But it was nice: we had our friends, yummy food and a great desire to live. I met Henri Tardivat at my wedding, and now we’re associates. Funny, uh? He was having an affair with my husband’s sister at the time, but they remained best friends when they broke up. People called them H&amp;H! Anyway, between my home in France and my job in England, my life has never been so complicated and confusing like after my wedding. I had the Gestapo crawling up my ass at the time - they call me the <em> White Mouse </em>, by the way, which is fit for my last name - I was also evacuating people to Spain. I won’t tell you about it tonight, it’s a very long story, Rich. Although I think by now you get what’s happened. How I’ve been living these past years. After Henri died I was lost for a while; you see, we had been together for three years and he was the light of my life, he was my rock. Fucking Germans captured him, we had to meet in France and then run away together to Spain because at the time the Gestapo was really close to catch us. I was fast, but he wasn’t fast enough so they got him, tortured him to know where I was and then they murdered him. I truly don’t know where I got the strength, Rich, but I managed to go back to England at some point and start over. I mean, I’m still not over it, but life goes on. And now I’m here.”</p><p>Silence falls above them, not even the sounding of the bombs can dissuade them from their thoughts. Grace feels like a heavy burden has just been lifted off her chest and that’s a wonderful sensation; she’s not sure about what Richard is feeling at that moment, but if there’s a thing she’s sure about now, it’s that her friend understands. He understands her, and her motives, and her actions, she can tell by the expression on his face. Grace was afraid at first, but she’s not anymore.</p><p>“Grace,” Richard begins, but then he’s silent again, clearly unready to comment. He just stares at her for a few moments, before trying again. “Grace, I don’t even know what to say. I thought you were dead, and yet you have been more alive and active than ever. I’m so sorry for what happened to you, I’m sorry for your husband, and most importantly I’m sorry if I wasn’t there when you needed support and a friend.”</p><p>“You were, in a way, Rich,” she concedes, resting a hand on his. “You’ve always been my best friend even when we weren’t in touch.”</p><p>Grace supports the idea that silence works better than words sometimes, so she just waits for him to process the information and take everything in. It’s a lot to take in, she’s very much aware of that, but she knows he will manage just fine. She had lost perception of time, they’ve been talking for more than half an hour probably, so maybe it’s time for them to catch up with the others and head to Culoville. There will be another time for the rest of the story.</p><p>Richard clears his throat, then lies his hand on hers. “I’ve always told you you’re the bravest person I know. I’m so proud of you, Grace, of what you’ve accomplished and of the great woman that stands in front of me in this very moment.”</p><p>“Thank you for understanding,” she says, her lower lip trembling. “Thank you.”</p><p>“If ever⎯” Richard starts, but then a joyful, screaming voice interrupts them. Both him and Grace look around, searching for the source of all that noise. It was Henri.</p><p>“Grace! I’ve been looking for you all over the place, for fuck’s sake!” he extrolls, panting from the run. “They did it! The radio! We’re going home!”</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p>
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</p><p>Grace and Henri reach the men who managed to repair the radio with impressive speed, she didn’t even know she could run that fast. The moment she opens the door wide with no manners whatsoever, she sees a couple of men intent on trying to understand how the radio works. As soon as they see her and Henri, one of the men tells them that they are about to head to Culoville, so perhaps they should wait until they reach town to make contact with SOE, to which Grace replies that she doesn’t give a damn about Culoville - her and Herni have been there long enough and they need to go home. </p><p>“Grace, I think these men have a point. The Battalion will be gone in less than ten minutes and no one will remain here, I think it’s safer for us if we stay with them,” Henri tries to put some sense into her, and, yeah, maybe he’s right. “Culoville is just a few miles from here, anyway, it’s not like it’d make any difference.”</p><p>She eventually gives in, thanking them for the millionth time, then grabs the radio and shoves it safe into Henri’s bag.</p><p>After not even five minutes, they are on route to Culoville, which Grace found out was half an hour away from Sainte-Marie-du-Mont. And that also means half an hour away from finally contacting England. </p><p>Grace and Henri march together along with Malarkey, a certain Alton More and Muck; Richard is nowhere to be seen, Grace had left him in a hurry as soon as Henri told her their radio was functioning again. She is pretty sure he had followed them, but given they were about to head out of town and he was a CO, someone must have stopped him on the way to gather his men and get them ready to go. </p><p>The way to Culoville lasts shorter than she had expected, perhaps because Malarkey, More and Muck manage to entertain her and Henri af if it was a comedy show, and she can’t help but think she’s going to miss them. And Luz, even though he hasn’t joined them in the march, but instead he’s somewhere behind. Malarkey and Muck are quite the dynamic duo: they’re so fun and kind, their jokes make her laugh - she’s always <em>hated </em>jokes because she just doesn’t find them funny - and their chemical bond is so strong that they complete each other’s sentences most of the time. Their attachment reminds Grace of her associate during her last missions, Hannah: she and Hannah had never been as close as Malarkey and Muck are, but they worked well together and Hannah was a lot like Muck. Grace sighs, when the image of Hannah’s face covered in blood displays in her mind.</p><p>As soon as they arrive in town, Grace and Henri try to find Major Strayer, to tell him they are about to make contact with SOE to finally go home; Major General Sir Colin McVean Gubbins, head of SOE, promised her and Henri a ride home once they were able to reveal their position.</p><p>“Let’s find some place quiet,” says Strayer, waving to follow him. He leads them towards a group of men who are smoking outside a small stoned building. “Everything set up?”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” confirms one.</p><p>Strayer nods in consent, leading them inside the building. It’s incredible how quick the men always manage to set up their headquarters once they secure a town even if their stay will be short, Grace mentally makes a note to congratulate them at some point.</p><p>They enter a small, dark room, with only a table and little furniture. Henri grabs his bag and immediately hands the radio to Grace: between the two of them, she is the only one able to communicate with code radios, due to her special training. </p><p>Grace is so busy fiddling with the radio buttons that she’s barely aware of Richard’s presence next to her; he gives her a look she can’t interpret, a mixture of sadness and hope and he’s probably thinking the same as her: once they reached SOE, how long will it be since they would meet again? She just nods, as if to let him know everything is going to be alright. Grace notices another man in the room, Lewis Nixon, who gives her a quick nod of greeting before standing next to Richard.</p><p>Henri lends her a piece of paper and a pen, that she will need when they will get the reply from SOE radioman.</p><p>Grace takes a breath, then starts pressing some buttons.</p><p>
  <em> Operation Jedburgh complete. We’re safe in ASS. Waiting for instructions. Hélène. </em>
</p><p>Now it was all a matter of time, Grace knows that SOE works twenty-four/seven.</p><p>“I transmitted a message and told them we’re safe in Culoville,” Grace tells the crowd because she’s starting to feel like everyone’s looks are piercing through her head. “The answer should come soon enough, they’re usually fast.”</p><p>“Do you think they’ll send you someone here?” asks Strayer, his arms crossed. “Just so I warn the men.”</p><p>Grace shakes her head. “Usually they give us coordinates to safe farm houses close to where we are. Then they send someone there. Before you ask, we don’t need cover, Major. We’re used to this.”</p><p>Strayer nods, a thin line appears between his brows. “Is it safe? The message you sent? Do we have to be worried about Germans coming at us?”</p><p>“Oh, no no,” Grace shakes her head once again, smirking. “We try to stay as neat as possible, in case Krauts would crack our messages! In this case I didn’t mention Culoville, I said ‘we’re safe in ass’, because <em> Culo </em> in italian literally means <em> ass. </em> I specified it in capital letters so in case the Germans will crack the message, they’ll think it’s some acronym. <em> And </em> in case they’re so smart that they discover it’s not an acronym, they’ll get the information that Henri and I are safe in someone’s ass, so we win either way.”</p><p>A full laughter echoes in the room, Nixon basically choked on his own saliva and started coughing. Strayer is about to say something when the radio starts <em> beeping </em>. Grace immediately grabs the pen and transcribes the sounds on the paper; the message seems quite long and that’s unusual. When the radio stops making noises, Grace begins translating the sounds to words: last time she’s done that it was a few months ago, so she feels a little bit rusty at first but then she manages to get the whole message eventually. </p><p>She reads it first and then blinks at it a couple of times after realising what’s in there. Grace looks up, clears her throat, and then translate the message to the others with a shaky voice:</p><p>
  <em> Head to Hélène. 49.3765° N, 1.2707° W in the morning. Hélène you must stay where you are, things have changed. Price on your head rose up. This is a direct order. We’re working on Freelance, I repeat, you must not be seen. I spoke to General Eisenhower, you will be staying with the 506th until they get back to England. I wish you luck.  </em>
</p><p>Grace then looks up at Henri. He gives her a solemn look, then sighs, resting a hand on her shoulder. This is a serious matter, and he knows it. </p><p>“Wait, what’s going on?” Nixon asks, frowning. “What’s Freelance? What do you mean you have a price on your head?”</p><p>“Freelance means they’re working to fake my death,” Grace explains, sinking her face into her hands. This is so messed up, she didn’t certainly think that things would change so fast in barely two days. She’s used to unexpected events, but this… this is a big deal. “The Gestapo put a price of five million francs on my head in 1943, I’ve been their most wanted person ever since.”</p><p>Grace dares to look at Richard, hoping her begging eyes would ask for forgiveness in her place. He looks worried, very worried.</p><p>“Henri,” she says then, when it’s clear everybody is too astonished to even dare to comment. “Give me the map, please, so I’ll check up on those coordinates.”</p><p>Henri takes out the map and spreads it flat on the table. “Bresson Ebénisterie,” states him after a few seconds. “Not far from here, I can do it alone, don’t worry. I’m sorry, Grace.”</p><p>She tries a comforting smile, probably not succeeding very well because she’s the worst at comforting people. Henri is an open book to Grace, she can tell he’s worried about the entire situation: if possible, he has more trust issues than Grace, so even without mouthing a word it’s clear he’s unfavorable to having to leave her with the Airborne. All the missions they’ve done, they’ve always started and ended with them together. </p><p>“I don’t know if I approve all of this,” Major Strayer intervenes, and honestly Grace doesn’t blame him. “But, well, General Eisenhower’s word is worth more than mine, so I feel like I don’t have a say in this. Well, welcome to the Airborne, Miss Whitehead.” Grace bites her lip, as if letting him know she’s not approving that either, but she doesn’t have any choice, apparently. “I’ll have the men collect some things for you and have you settled, somehow… somewhere…”</p><p>“If your concern is about me being a woman at war, Major, you must know this has been my life for the past four years. I can handle it, and you won’t even know I’m here. Also, I’m a trained sniper, I can be of some use.”</p><p>Strayer doesn’t seem very convinced, but he doesn’t utter a word. He salutes his men and Grace and he goes out, leaving a silent room.</p><p>“You didn’t mention this price on your head, Grace,” Richard scolds her once the Major is gone, and she feels like a kid who’s been discovered stealing candies. “<em> Five </em> million francs? What’s this?”</p><p>“What can I say, Hitler hates me,” she shrugs. It’s not in his right to debate about it, it’s not her fault if the Germans do what they do. “But that’s completely fine because it happens that I hate him too.”</p><p>Nixon laughs out loud, approaching Grace and shaking her shoulder with a hand. “I like you, kid. You’re the missing puzzle piece of this hell hole that is the Airborne. I think you’ll do us some good. I’ll be remembering the <em> culo </em>thing all my life.”</p><p>“Thanks for believing in me even without knowing me.”</p><p>“I don’t need to know you, kid, what I’ve just heard is enough to give me trust,” Nixon confesses, earning a warning look from Richard. “If the Krauts gave you a price on your head means you must be quite a danger to them. And that’s enough for me to welcome you here.”</p><p>With that, Nixon exits the building, still laughing to himself, leaving her with just Richard and Henri.</p><p>Grace doesn’t know how to feel, she just stands there, looking at the radio as if it would send a response all by itself. Ignoring her friends’ worried faces - she hates pity more than anything - she answers SOE, telling them she understands and will respect the orders, waiting for other instructions when they have some.</p><p>“Henri,” Grace says, now looking at him, “I told them you’ll be there in Bresson by 0800. Since you don’t know how to work with the radio and won’t be able to make contact once you get there, might as well be there in time. I’ll be keeping the radio.”</p><p>Henri’s silence is like an agreement to Grace. They’ve worked together long enough to understand each other just by the looks or by saying nothing, like in this case. She will never admit it, but she’s going to miss Henri. </p><p>SOE responds again, confirming time and place for Henri, then Grace turns the radio off and places it safely in her bag. The air around her starts to get a little bit suffocating, so Grace suggests they go outside: the smell of foulness and fumes coming from the bombing of neighboring villages certainly doesn’t make the air more breathable, but at least it’s not contained by four small, smothering walls.</p><p>Grace senses a hand on her shoulder and she knows exactly who that is without even looking up.</p><p>“Gracie,” Richard tries, “are you okay?”</p><p>“I’m okay, Rich, I swear,” Grace reassures him. It’s true, though, she feels okay. A little woozy from the intensity of all the events that had happened these past few days, but other than that she’s okay. “As you said once, you are the one that needs to be worried about. I mean, look at that face!”</p><p>Richard jokingly pushes her a little on the side, and suddenly she feels her shoulders taken by someone’s hands.</p><p>“Oi, watch out, Spy.” It was Harry Welsh, smirking, steadying her in place. “What’s up? Haven’t found home yet?”</p><p>“Ah! Home doesn’t want me, Lieutenant,” Grace answers right away, gazing at Henri. “He’ll say hello for me.”</p><p>Welsh frowns, then glances at Richard as if he’s trying to get some explanation. Richard, for his part, just shrugs, resigned.</p><p>“It looks like we have a new addition to our company, Harry,” he informs him, eyeing Grace. She knows deep down Richard doesn’t approve this decision, but it’s not like they gave her or the Airborne another choice. </p><p>Welsh, on the other hand, congratulates her by friendly patting her on the shoulder, like she’s just being promoted.</p><p>“Well, welcome to the jungle, Grace!”</p><p>Yeah, jungle indeed, but Grace can’t help but wonder why she’s not particularly bothered by the whole situation. She’s just been told she has to be in the front line duty until the Airborne heads back to England, which could be in two days or two months or never. Grace laughs at herself, thinking about how much effort she went through trying to enlist years ago, and now she’s being forced into a frontline position; truth is she’s not fazed, or scared, this is what she wanted from the very beginning of this war. She wanted to fight for her country and for the people who have been suffering all these years. It’s not like she hadn’t fought, on the contrary, been part of special forces, which is still war and, in a way, more complicated. Her life is in constant danger, she doesn’t get to be involved in continuous fighting at every hour of the day, but it’s still nerve-wracking and dangerous. But being up at the front line, being there with the Army was another matter to Grace. She wanted this to demonstrate something to her father, and now she was given a chance.</p><p>Grace ponders about how they will handle her presence, if they put her in a specific platoon, if they give her a <em> role </em> or if she’s just going to be like a… sort of <em> guest. </em> Like a ghost, wandering around between soldiers just to keep them company. No way she’s going back to being a ghost like she felt in her own family for all of her childhood. She doesn’t want that, she wants to fight, she’s trained to fight and whatever their decisions will be, <em> she will fight. </em></p><p>While she’s just zoned out for a bit, she sees Richard and Welsh talking to Henri so she catches only the end of their conversation.</p><p>“... and please, don’t put her under the spotlight or else she’s going to boast and you’re never going to get rid of her arrogance,” Henri cautions the men, winking at Grace.</p><p>“Shit, I can’t wait for you to leave me the fuck alone,” Grace announces, rolling her eyes and making both Richard and Welsh laugh.</p><p>“See? Arrogance <em> and </em>delicacy.”</p><p>“You asked for it, dumbass, like always,” Grace snorts. “Do any of you have a cig?”</p><p>Welsh rummages in his front pocket and emerges a pack of cigarettes, that he hands to Grace. “Keep the pack, you’ll need it if you’re going to stay,” he winks. “You know if they’ll arrange you in any platoon in particular?”</p><p>“Dunno,” Grace admits, with the cigarette hanging from her lips as she puts the pack away. “Your Major just said he was gonna have some men to ‘collect some things’ for me, maybe he was talking about uniforms and stuff like that.”</p><p>“And guns,” Richard adds, finally coming back from the realm of the dead; he’s been way too quiet this past half an hour, and it’s crystal clear he’s worried sick about her. Grace doesn’t need anyone to be worried about her; she’s perfectly capable of taking care of her own life, probably even better than some of the men. But it’s somewhat nice of him.</p><p>“I don’t know, the girl here has quite the collection,” Welsh jokes and Grace frowns at first, but then recalls the first time they met when he searched her bag and found the guns. “Even though you’ll probably need a rifle, surely pistols ain’t enough.”</p><p>“Grace,” Henri intervenes, taking his submachine gun and handing it to Grace, “take this. You’ll need it more than me. I have the other guns, I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Grace’s eyes widen as she finds herself with Henri’s Sten in her hands. “No, Tardivat, I can’t accept this. It’s <em> yours. </em>”</p><p>“Yes, it’s mine so I do whatever I wanna do with it.”</p><p>“No offence, the Airborne probably won’t accept your weapons,” Welsh says then.</p><p>“No offence, the Airborne just welcomed a woman in its Regiment,” Henri shoots back, raising an eyebrow. He has a point, Grace thinks, but she has to agree with Welsh: surely they’re going to get her some clothes and weapons fit for her new role, she won’t need the Sten. </p><p>“Henri,” she tries, giving him a small smile and realising this is the first time she’s speaking his name in ages. “I believe the Lieutenant is right. I’m sure they’ll give me a rifle soon enough. Besides, your journey ain’t over, you still have to reach the safe place tomorrow.”</p><p>Henri doesn’t respond, instead moves his look to his feet and nods in assent. Grace is not going to admit she cares and she will miss Henri anytime soon, but surely he’s not any better. She smiles at nothing in particular.</p><p>“Lieutenant Winters,” says a man, approaching them out of nowhere. “Colonel Sink is looking for you.”</p><p>Richard nods, then turns his gaze at the others. “I’ll be seeing you later. Harry, don’t influence her too much with your stupidity.”</p><p>“Ohhh, here we go!” Welsh laughs while Richard leaves, saluting them. “Yeah, go away. We’ll be better without you,” then he turns to Grace. “How did you manage to even befriend this one?” Grace joins in his laughter, and she notices that Henri was smiling too. </p><p>“He was a fine kid, I suppose.”</p><p>“Come on fellas, walk with me.”</p><p>It must be past midnight, Grace isn’t sure about the hour since they’ve been moving non stop all day long. Grace and Henri join Welsh as he starts walking; after Richard Winters took over the whole company due to the - still unconfirmed but almost certain - death of Lieutenant Meehan, Welsh has been made 1st Lieutenant. Grace is under the impression he’s a very well liked man and officer by the men, with his wit and ability as a leader. </p><p>“So, Lieutenant, how are the men?” asks Henri.</p><p>“They’re good, for now,” he replies, his voice toning down a little, looking concerned. “At least, those who managed to… you know.”</p><p>Lots of men are still missing and they keep moving the Battalion. Grace understands that they probably have no other choice, war doesn’t wait, but she can’t help but think of those poor men who found themselves lost during D-Day and have yet to find their companies.</p><p>“You’re missing someone from your platoon?” Grace asks, sincerely curious.</p><p>Welsh nods. “Yeah, some. I’m sure they’re okay.”</p><p>“Which platoon are you leading?”</p><p>“1st plat⧿”</p><p>“Woooo here you are!”</p><p>A gleeful voice reaches them, and Grace is somehow surprisingly relieved it was George Luz. He’s not alone, he’s followed by his friend Frank Perconte and another guy that Grace hasn’t had the chance to meet yet: he looks even younger than the rest of the men, and has a grin way too big for his face. Grace stupidly wonders if Perconte still has all of those ticking watches, just to know about the hour. </p><p>They reach them, Luz giving Welsh a way too energetic pat on his shoulder.</p><p>“Speaking of…!” Welsh comments, starting a semi fight with Luz. “These are my platoon’s assholes.”</p><p>“Hey, Grace,” Luz calls to her, all excited, “is it true that Krauts put a price on your head? I mean, <em> wow, </em>fuck. Nixon told some guys that told us, basically the whole Regiment knows by now. Oh, this is Hoobler, the spy material enthusiast I told you about. Hoob, don’t get yourself too excited, for Chrissake.”</p><p>Grace chuckles seeing the guy with the big smile approaching her: he’s looking at her like she’s some angel descended to earth, it’s both funny and uncomfortable at the same time.</p><p>“Hiii, I’m Grace.”</p><p>“Hoobler, m’am,” he mumbles, saluting her. He’s the first person to salute her since she’s found herself stuck with the Airborne. “Hoob will do! Don’t wanna sound odd or something, but can I see your sabotage kit? Please?”</p><p>“Hoob, for real?” protests Welsh, incredulous by his own subaltern. “How do you even know she has a sabotage kit?”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Lieutenant!” Hoobler says in excitement, his eyes following Grace as she reaches for her kit at the bottom of the bag. “Every special forces’ agent has one, everyone knows that!”</p><p>Grace hands the kit to Hoobler who’s so thrilled he has his eyes popping out in excitement. He rolls the kit in his hands, a small plastic black case, then he opens it and analises each tool.</p><p>“Watch out for the bombs,” Grace warns him, trying a severe tone but failing miserably. Hoobler looks up at her, gulping, as she huffs out a laugh. “Kidding!”</p><p>They all laugh together, mostly making fun of Hoobler. Grace moves her gaze to Luz for no reason whatsoever and she finds him already looking at her direction: he’s smiling, but when she catches him staring at her his smile brightens. Even though the day has been really tough for everyone, Grace included, she feels at ease; her thoughts wandering between her accomplished mission, and the new one that’s about to begin. All in all she’s fine.</p><p>Grace instinctively brings a hand to the bandage on her arm: the unbearable pain from a few hours ago now a distant memory.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello! Welcome back! Just a quick few things before you leave :)</p><p>- The locations of the SOE training are real! Wiki says: <i>The initial training centres of the SOE were at country houses such as Wanborough Manor, Guildford. Agents destined to serve in the field underwent commando training at Arisaig in Scotland, where they were taught armed and unarmed combat skills. Those who passed this course received parachute training by STS 51 and 51a situated near Altrincham, Cheshire with the assistance of No.1 Parachute Training School RAF, at RAF Ringway. They then attended courses in security and Tradecraft at Group B schools around Beaulieu in Hampshire. Finally, depending on their intended role, they received specialist training in skills such as demolition techniques or Morse code telegraphy at various country houses in England. </i><br/>- Nancy Wake truly had a 5 millions franc price on her head, in 1943 was the Gestapo’s most wanted person!</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Easy Company+1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always a huge thanks goes to Angelica and Dan for helping me out as always, ily! ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>"If you <em>have</em> to do it, do it fast. You know I hate it."</p><p>It's almost seven in the morning, and unlike the mass of clouds and fumes from the day before, today the sun shines beautifully and Grace is oddly in a good mood. The only exception is that Henri is leaving and she's not so sure they would meet again anytime soon. Or ever, really.</p><p>Henri rolls his eyes but then grins, wrapping her in a big, tight hug. She's never been into manifesting affection, especially when in public, it just makes her uncomfortable. A few special cases are only when she's so overwhelmed that she can't contain herself, like the day before when Grace saw Richard for the first time in five years.</p><p>Grace returns the hug for a couple of seconds before detangling herself from Henri. It's true she didn't even want him to be on her team before the jump, but now she doesn't regret a single thing: they've been on so many operations together but never got along properly, their stubborn and proud personalities always fighting with each other. But Henri is a good soldier and Grace would be lying to herself if she didn't admit she will miss him and his humor.</p><p>"Don't let these men tell you what to do," Henri advises her, grabbing her arms before letting her go, his tone now serious. "Don't let them trample on your rights and your honour. Remember your role in all of this."</p><p>"I'm no captain here, Tardivat, I'll have to receive orders at some point," she reminds him, locking her eyes with Henri's. "But I won't let anyone undermine my confidence or my honour, I can promise you that. You know me, you know I won't have it."</p><p>Henri nods, giving her a half smile. Of course he knows by now, he's experienced it firsthand so many times she's lost count. Grace has never been daunted by farewells, the 'hello, I'm not sure we're gonna see each other ever again, good luck' kind of farewells, but in this very moment she feels her stomach tingle a little. She just wants him to get home safely.</p><p>"Take care of yourself, Tardivat."</p><p>"Keep an eye on the radio, I'll send you a message once I reach England."</p><p>"Sure thing, captain," she salutes him.</p><p>Henri smiles, shifting the bag and his Sten tight on his body. He salutes her back, then turns around and starts walking towards the woods. Not even five steps in and he turns again. "Who knows, maybe by the time you'll be back you'll finally manage to call me by my name."</p><p>Grace grins. "We'll see about that, Tardivat," she says, but she's not sure if she's referring to the name or returning back.</p><p>And then he's gone, just like that, leaving Grace under the Airborne's wings.</p><p> </p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p> </p><p>One of the reasons that has Grace in a good mood today, is surely the fact she has finally gotten a few hours of sleep during the night. All in all, the previous day has been quite eventful and kept Grace very busy, so by the time she managed to spend some time alone it was already evening. After Henri left, Grace had found herself tagging along with Richard mostly, following him around the town, delivering orders and meeting people; they had been able to talk some more about their pasts, with him telling her about how his parents and sisters were doing and how his life had been busy after he joined the Army. She had listened to him talking, enraptured, possibly admiring him even more. In the afternoon, Grace had the pleasure to meet Colonel Robert Sink. He seemed like a good man, one who clearly cares about his men's welfare; at least this is how she viewed him after talking to him for an hour or so. The Colonel had asked her a few things about her past and her experiences, probably trying to find out more about the person he was about to welcome into the regiment. It vaguely reminded Grace of one of the first interviews she had before joining SOE: she still doesn't know if she managed to impress Sink, but he sure didn't dare to judge or make any unpleasant comment.</p><p>He had told Grace that he personally knew the Head of SOE, and that he had already heard a few words about her before even knowing about Operation Jedburgh, which Grace had found so gratifying. Sink then informed her he would have the officers from each company give a speech to their men the next morning, to let them officially know about Grace and her mission that basically consists in her hiding from the Germans and trying to stay alive. The dumbest mission ever, in her opinion. Sink also told her about the role she was going to have in the company, and at first she was afraid he would just put her in the rear, observing, doing nothing but watching men die. Instead he surprisingly was inclined to put her into action, due to her majestic experiences and abilities in combat. Might as well take advantage of that, he said. Grace was amazed by his words, and accepted without hesitation.</p><p>After her little briefing with Colonel Sink, Major Strayer had sent a couple of men to find her, to give her some instructions about how things are going to go from now on. They also handed her a rucksack full of things, which had Grace more excited than them educating her on the matter. The rucksack contained: a basic uniform like one of those she has seen the men wearing around; there was a helmet, of course, new boots and most importantly... a rifle. She had studied her new M1 Garand, amazed by the structure that is so very different from her little old Sten. This is a US weapon, with this baby she will be able to hit the target from at least five hundred metres. Finally there was also a Colt M1911 which is the standard sidearm of the US forces; earlier Grace had delivered her old pistols to Henri, given she wouldn't be able to bring them all with her. It was sad, in a way, but it had to be done.</p><p>So, feeling a little bit lighter in the head, she managed to sleep well that night.</p><p>In the morning, soon after she had breakfast with Lewis Nixon and a fine guy named Lynn Compton, Buck to his friends, Grace found herself peeking through the window of the facility where she had spent the night, while Richard was making a speech to his men just outside the nearest building. She didn't want to participate, she didn't feel like having all those questioning and confusing looks staring at her. But she does know what the officers had been instructed to say: Grace would be welcomed to the regiment due to grave situations surrounding her and by extension the safety of their upcoming missions. Grace is the most wanted person in all Germany, if the SS were to know her whereabouts they were all doomed. So, from now on, not a word of a woman in the Airborne must leave their mouths. If they were to be captured or if the Germans were to find out about a woman fighting alongside the Americans, she was <em>Hélène</em>, a British nurse. They could only address her as Grace when there was no one else apart from the soldiers of the 101st Airborne around.</p><p>Grace's first thoughts went to the first time she tried to pass herself off as a man to enter the Army: back then she was aware that, if that had worked out well, she would have had to pretend to be someone else for a very long time but she was prepared to do that. This shouldn't be any different.</p><p>Grace sighs to herself, thinking about all of the things that have happened since Henri left: and to think three days ago she was planning on going back to Scotland for a bit. Instead she's stuck in France for who knows how long.</p><p>She stays there for a little bit longer, just her thoughts keeping her company. It's lunch time but oddly she's not very hungry, as so much is happening in her head at the moment, and eating is definitely not a priority. After staring at the ceiling for way too long, trying to put some order in her chaotic mind, she falls asleep.</p><p>When Grace wakes up it's still sunny outside, so she must not have been asleep for too long. Out of the corner of her eye she spots the rucksack the men had given her the day before, so she decides it's about time to gather her stuff and go out. The first thing she does is wear her new uniform: when she woke up that morning, she was so dizzy she forgot about it, and went to breakfast still in her grungy and blooded old SOE attire. Now it's such a relief to get rid of it and wear the new one: it fits a little loose on her but she had expected it, after all it's meant for males. It's a strange feeling, wearing Airborne clothing.</p><p>Grace stuffs the code radio and the sabotage kit at the bottom of the bag and, when she finally feels ready to face the day and what's yet to come, she exits the house, the heavy backpack steady on her shoulders and a smile on her face.</p><p>"Well, look who showed up all fancy for her little vacation!" says Skip Muck once she reaches the little group: there's him, Malarkey, obviously, because she has discovered they come like a package, always together; then there's Hoobler, Randleman and Luz. The beautiful sunny day must be contagious to anybody around, because they seem all happy and peaceful.</p><p>Perhaps they're just glad to have been blessed with another day.</p><p>"This must be the most beautiful and simultaneously oddest sight," follows Malarkey, nodding at her in approval. "A woman wearing the Screaming Eagle uniform!"</p><p>"If this ain't exciting I don't know what that is," Luz adds then, his eyes boring into her. He brings the cigarette to his mouth, inhaling the smoke and then passing it over to Grace without looking away even once. She accepts, mimicking his moves before handing it back to him.</p><p>"Thanks, boys," Grace replies, glancing up at the sky because she loves compliments but deep down she gets a little awkward whenever that happens. She's definitely not used to it. "But please, Luz, stop undressing me with your eyes or I'm gonna catch a cold."</p><p>"Woooo!" Muck chants, making fun of his friend. He brings his arm around Luz and starts squeezing him. "Finally someone who manages to leave you speechless, Luz."</p><p>In fact, George Luz's jaw dropped the moment she answered him, his cigarette almost fell on the ground; Grace has known him for a short while, yet she can tell he's quite the flirt. She's quite flirtatious herself, it's helped her get away from so many unpleasant situations in her job. Perhaps he's not used to getting witty responses to his flirting, nevertheless that's a sight Grace is not going to forget anytime soon.</p><p>"Have you seen Lieutenant Welsh by any chance?" she asks then.</p><p>They all shake their heads. "Na-ah, since last night. Why do you ask?"</p><p>"I was told to report to him, they sort of assigned me to his platoon? I'm not sure, they didn't exactly say the word, but I'm assuming that's what they had in mind."</p><p>"Woah! You're with us, then!" Luz jumps in excitement, elbowing Randleman and giving a nod towards Hoobler, suddenly forgetting he made a fool out of himself just a moment ago. "We're getting our own sniper, how cool is that!"</p><p>Grace laughs quietly, moving her eyes to the ground. The fact that they are all happy to have her there, is a warm and at the same time unusual feeling; she can't help but think this is the first time since she joined SOE in 1940 that men are truly happy to have someone like her on their side; she's used to people debating her skills in battle. They seem sincerely elated and intrigued. She hasn't yet had the chance to properly meet the rest of the men, and she's pretty sure several of them will not be pleased to share the war experience with a woman, but at least if anything happens she has the support of a few.</p><p>Grace smiles quickly at Luz and then looks up at Skip. "You're also in 1st platoon?"</p><p>"We're the 2nd, Grace," Skip reveals, resting a hand on his heart in devotion. Malarkey rolls his eyes at him. "But as you can see we're always all mixed up together, anyway. In battle, that's another story. As the wise said: keep your comrades close, but your platoon closer."</p><p>"Oh my god, you just made that up," Malarkey comments. "<em>The wise?"</em></p><p>Skip shrugs. "I did make that up just now, not gonna lie."</p><p>Grace chuckles at them; the only thing she can do around them is constantly chuckle because they bring such joy to her, she can't quite describe it. Still shaking her head in amusement, Grace moves her gaze to the man next to Skip: she feels a bit guilty for not reaching out to him sooner when she arrived, but she was a little busy with the magical trio. "Bull, nice meeting you again!"</p><p>Bull Randleman has a cigar hanging from the corner of his mouth, it stays there in place while he says: "Hiya, kid. Nice to have you on board! Fancy outfit you have there."</p><p>"Thank you!" she smiles. "It might sound weird but I'm so excited. Who thought that one jump would have brought me to joining the Army."</p><p>Joining the Army has been her dream before realising there was no way the British military would ever accept a woman; Grace has always believed in destiny, and now the fact that one well done jump had brought her into fulfilling her biggest dream, she believes that her ambition is finally within her grasp. Everything she has ever done has led to this moment.</p><p>Bull smirks, ruffling her hair a little.</p><p>"Who thought you jumping would've brought us a sniper, honestly!" is Luz's reply.</p><p>Grace pinches Luz on the cheek, causing him to giggle and then playfully pushing her aside. In that moment a group of men advances towards them: the looks on their faces are more than exhausted, but they're smiling nonetheless.</p><p>"Hey fellas," says the first one reaching them, perhaps one of the hottest men Grace has ever met.</p><p>Luz goes to him with open arms, happily. "Look who decided to show up, Floyd!"</p><p>Seeing their knackered figures getting closer, Grace starts to realise that maybe these men were among those who had been reported missing, those being part of that ninety percent of the men who are unaccounted for. She's so glad they managed to lower the percentage.</p><p>"Hey, Luz," the man shakes his hand, a sign of relief on his face. "Thought we'd never find you."</p><p>"You okay?" asks Luz, glancing at Grace for a moment and she knows he is about to introduce her just like he did yesterday with basically anyone, but his intentions are abruptly interrupted by Liebgott, who appeared out of thin air, waving a Nazi flag in the man's face.</p><p>"Hey, Tab. Get a load of this. You like that?"</p><p>Grace snorts, because, really? First, Frank Perconte stealing watches from Germans' dead bodies, and now Liebgott taking horrible flags as souvenirs.</p><p>Talbert laughs at him. "Yeah, it's the real stuff, eh?" and he starts rifling in his bag, emerging a Kraut poncho. Here we go to another one. He unfurls it proudly and shows it to the other boys. "You like this?"</p><p>"Oh, nice. That's a beauty, sarge!"</p><p>She is about to comment when she hears Hoobler's voice next to her.</p><p>"My Luger's gonna put y'all to shame when I get it."</p><p>"Believe me when I say your Colt is way better than the Luger," Grace comments, earning a glare from Hoobler. "What? It's true."</p><p>In that moment she realises the air around her is way too quiet so she scans the crowd, finding them all staring.</p><p>"Tab, Shifty, Blithe, this is the new acquisition of Easy Company, Miss Grace Whitehead," introduces Muck, cheerfully. When the men are all lifting a brow at her in surprise, he adds: "We'll update you later."</p><p>Talbert blinks at her a couple of times, before offering his hand to shake. "Floyd Talbert. Enchanted," he says, "and surprised."</p><p>"No need to be, Floyd," Grace responds, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "I'm far from enchanting, but nice meeting you, too."</p><p>Talbert whistles, squeezing his eyes shut. "Witty."</p><p>"She's us, but female," comments Luz, resting his elbow on Grace's shoulder. He's never been this close during daylight and it takes him two seconds to notice the scar under Grace's right eye. "Hey, didn't notice this one before," he brings his fingers as if to touch it, but then changes his mind. "How did you get it?"</p><p>Grace looks away. "The time I got arrested. They beat me up with brass knuckles."</p><p>"Shit," Talbert says, a thin line appearing in his forehead. "They must've been beasts if you still have the mark."</p><p>"They were," Grace confirms, memories of those two, miserable weeks starting to float in her mind. The scar wasn't exactly considerable, but it wasn't even so subtle. She looks up at Luz to her right. "Can I introduce myself to the other men, or do I have to be your nightstand all day long?"</p><p>"Whops, sorry girl," he apologises, taking off his elbow from her shoulder.</p><p>Grace rolls her eyes, shoving him away before addressing the men who came over with Floyd Talbert. "I'm Grace, I'm from SOE but these days it looks like I'm also from Easy Company."</p><p>"Guys, she's a freaking spy!" adds Hoobler, making her cackle. Seriously, they weren't exaggerating when they said he was the spy enthusiast number one.</p><p>"Nice to meet you," one of the men salutes her. "Darrell Powers, but no one really calls me that. I'm Shifty."</p><p>"Albert Blithe," says the blonde one, giving her a shaky smile. He looks upset, but Grace doesn't question it because he has every right to be.</p><p>"Might I add, Shifty," Luz interrupts them, of course it's Luz. Grace wonders if he has some switch off button hidden somewhere. "We got ourselves, as in 1st Platoon, a sniper! You guys should do a competition so we can establish which platoon has the best sniper." Then he turns to Grace. "Shifty is a sharpshooter in the 3rd Platoon."</p><p>Grace's eyes widen as she turns again to Shifty: she hasn't thought about that before, about asking if there was another sniper in the company; she then notices the same rifle Major Strayer had given to her secured tightly on Shifty's back. She takes a mental note to ask him some advice, since she's never used that kind of weapon before.</p><p>"As soon as we have the chance, we should do some rounds together," offers Shifty with the sweetest smile Grace has ever seen.</p><p>"Oh, definitely!" she accepts. "Must admit my abilities as an agent never fade, but it's been a long time since I've had a good shot. You'll have to help me jog my memory if you guys expect me to knock over some Krauts."</p><p>"Let's go! 1st Platoon!" a voice not far startles them, and Grace is delighted to see it's Harry Welsh. "Easy's moving out. On your feet!"</p><p>A small crowd surrounds the Lieutenant quietly, the men must not be very pleased to find out they have to move out again so soon. Grace is under the impression that everybody was thinking about settling down for at least another day or two, but apparently their stay in the little town is shorter than they expected.</p><p>"Listen up! It'll be dark soon," Welsh continues while the men position themselves in a semicircle around him. As soon as Grace joins them, he immediately spots her and gives her a wink. "I want light and noise discipline from here on. No talking, no smoking or grab-fanny with the man in front of you, Luz."</p><p>A few of them laugh, and Grace can't help but follow suit.</p><p>"Sir, where we're headed, Lieutenant?" Hoobler asks, putting himself at the front.</p><p>Welsh glances at him before answering. "We're taking Carentan."</p><p>"That sounds fun!"</p><p>"It's the only place where armor from Omaha and Utah Beach can link up and head inland," Welsh explains, fixing his backpack at his side. "Until we take Carentan, they're stuck on the sand. General Taylor's sending the whole division."</p><p>Behind her, Grace hears someone huffing out a breath sarcastically, before hearing Luz's voice changing the tone into someone she doesn't know but she can imagine it's probably this General Taylor.</p><p>"Remember boys! Give me three daaays and three niiights of hard fighting... and you will be relieeeeeved!"</p><p>Everyone around laughs, and Grace does too because this boy is so hilarious even when he impersonates people she has never met. Even Welsh is laughing, moving then his gaze towards Grace, a gaze that reads 'I'm sorry you ended up here of all places'.</p><p>"Lieutenant, I'll take point," Hoobler says, raising a hand.</p><p>Welsh nods. "Hoobler will be lead scout. Blithe, glad you could join us," he says glancing over at Albert Blithe, who Grace had just met a few minutes before. He mumbles a "thank you, sir" but it looks like he's not glad to be there at all.</p><p>"1st platoon, fall in behind Fox Company," Welsh instructs his platoon and then addresses the rest of the men who joined them. "You people from 2nd and 3rd platoons follow us. Shake a leg."</p><p>Grace can't help but notice the difference between Richard's leading and Welsh's, both effective, but so different at the same time. This confirms what Grace initially thought about Harry Welsh, that he's a good leader and the men respect him just as much as they respect Richard.</p><p>Feeling a little out of place, Grace looks around as the men are starting to gather up their stuff and head out of town; she tries to find some familiar faces, when her look falls again on Welsh, who is approaching her, sipping water from his canteen.</p><p>"Another thing to remember, boys," she hears Luz's voice again behind her, with the same foreign timbre as before, "flieees spread diseaaaase, so keep yours cloooosed!"</p><p>Grace bursts out in laughter, towering over the echo of the other men laughing, then turning to look at Luz and finding him chuckling at his own joke. Seriously, that man is something else.</p><p>"Hey, H," Welsh calls her, distracting her from her thoughts, "you alright?"</p><p>"H?" Grace gives him a quizzical look.</p><p>"Yeah, well, I'm practicing for when I'll have to pretend in front of people there's no woman in my platoon and that so-called <em>no-woman</em> doesn't have a, well, female name."</p><p>Grace frowns, then shakes her head with a smile; she wonders if also the other companies are such a comedy show like Easy Company, or if she somehow managed to draw to herself all of the oddest members.</p><p>"I assume H stands for Hélène. Why not call me G, then? Grace's my name, not Hélène."</p><p>He just shrugs. "H sounds better."</p><p>They start walking together. The majority of the men are already ahead of them, heading to the infamous Carentan. Grace's hand finds the stock of her new rifle and clasps it tight: now begins her new adventure, with a bunch of paratroopers that she can't help but adore already and a new town to conquer.</p><p>"Strayer told me you're with us," Welsh says then. "I officially welcome you to the 1st platoon, Helen."</p><p>Grace snorts. "It's <em>Hélène, </em>Lieutenant<em>."</em></p><p>"Whatever you say, Helen."</p><p>"Oh my God."</p><p>"Just joking, kiddo!" Welsh gives her a pat on the shoulder. "No but seriously, when I talked to the men about you this morning they seemed all thrilled to have you. I actually feared some prejudice, but apparently you were lucky to find<em> us </em>on D-Day, I bet you've learned by now Luz and Perconte's have a certain influence, so they just... pushed some buttons."</p><p>"Oh my God," Grace repeats herself, imagining the duo going around their platoon babbling the stories Grace told them since they've met.</p><p>"No well, I believe most men have functioning brains, so I hope they got there on their own as soon as I told them the whole story."</p><p>"I hope so... <em>H</em>," Grace smirks.</p><p>Welsh seems not to get it at first, but then evidently remembers his own name and it all comes together. "We're H&amp;H, then. I could get used to it."</p><p>Now that she thinks about it, she might not get used to that: the French Resistance used to call her husband and Henri Tardivat exactly the same, due to them sharing the same name and being always together. She just shrugs off the idea.</p><p>The journey to Carentan is quiet, with Grace enjoying Harry Welsh' company. 1st platoon is the one at the front, leading, while the others are following them behind; at some point they're joined by Randleman and a certain Johnny Martin, whom Grace finds is somewhat enigmatic. He's nice to her while they talk, and he doesn't seem one to judge, in fact he asks her some questions without being too personal and she doesn't mind - even if she's starting to become a little bored after two days of answering the same queries consistently. But nonetheless, Martin has this scrutinizing expression plastered on his face, just like Bull Randleman had when they met on D-Day.</p><p>The stuffiness nips at their faces as they stare into a gray, orange and red striped sunset. Grace loves sunsets, they used to be her favourite part of the day, either because of the vibrant colours or because the night was finally ready to take the day under its wing. Right now, they're walking a grassy path, small fires all around them, probably from the day's bombing, to remind them they're in the middle of a war.</p><p>At some point, they manage to lose Fox Company. Twice. Welsh has Hoobler and Blithe going and try to find them, hopefully returning soon because it's starting to become really dark now and they are in an open field.</p><p>Grace barely acknowledges Richard's presence at her side, too busy trying to adjust her eyes to the pitch darkness. He's followed by Lewis Nixon, both coming up to the front to know why the line has stopped. When they decide to go after Hoobler and Blithe, Grace decides to join them.</p><p>"You're feeling okay, Gracie?" Richard asks, his head slightly turning back to her while they're heading to find Fox Company.</p><p>"Actually, I do," she says, keeping up with him and Nixon. "Your friend Harry is quite the character. I like him, and he already gave me a nickname."</p><p>Grace hears both Richard and Nixon snort. "So I bet by now you already know Kitty's shoe size?"</p><p>"Basically," she smirks; Welsh had spent at least half an hour telling her all about his fianceé Kitty and how he's storing his silk chute to make a wedding dress for her. "I think it's adorable the way he talks about her," she says.</p><p>"I'm thrilled to know about the nickname, now," Nixon announces, making Richard chuckle.</p><p>"It's H, apparently. Stands for Hélène and it's gender neutral just in case." Saying that outloud, Grace has to admit that it makes sense. Somehow.</p><p>"I wouldn't never have guessed he was so smart," it's Nixon's ironic comment. "His nicknames don't last long, I'm curious to know what the boys will give you."</p><p>"Oh, dear, I'm fucked!" Grace states eventually and both Nixon and Richard laugh.</p><p>After walking for some time, the trio manage to find Private Albert Blithe, standing frozen in front of a tree.</p><p>"Did you find Fox Company?" Richard asks him, making him startle a little.</p><p>"Yes, sir," the private says, seeming a little lost; Grace remembers the moment she met him earlier, his dull eyes still impressed in her mind. As soon as they reach him, she discovers the reason for his concern: there, at the tree's feet, is a dead paratrooper. A dead <em>German </em>paratrooper. "Thought he... I thought he had me."</p><p>Nixon reaches the dead body. "<em>Fallschirmjäger.</em>"</p><p>"What?" Grace asks because, even if they taught her a little bit of German at SOE, she's never been very good at it. Well, one can't be good at everything they do and for her languages are hell. She managed to learn a little French at some point, only because she used to find herself surrounded more by French than British people.</p><p>"Paratrooper?" asks Blithe.</p><p>Nixon nods. "Division thinks there's a regiment of them holding Carentan."</p><p><em>Great</em>, Grace thinks.</p><p>"Well," Richard starts, holding onto his rifle, "there's one less to worry about."</p><p>As Grace is thinking that that wouldn't make absolutely any difference, she sees Blithe going over the dead body because something has caught his eye. She can't see it very well because the moon is hiding behind the trees, so she shifts a little to the left, letting a beam of light hit the German.</p><p>"That's <em>edelweiss</em>," Nixon explains as Blithe touches it gently. Grace is pretty sure she has seen that flower before, but she can't quite recall where yet. "That only grows in the Alps above the tree line. Which means he climbed up there to get it. It's said to be the mark of a true soldier."</p><p>Instantaneously she remembers when and where she saw that flower: it was in the south of France, during her last mission in April. She was with Henri and another member of the French Resistance, Julie, hiding in a farm waiting for a ride back to headquarters, when two German soldiers appeared from the woods. She remembers Julie being so frightened that she couldn't stop trembling, leading her to hit a bucket full of water. The closest soldier heard them and thrusted the door of the barn open. Grace was the one closest to the door, so she didn't think twice before twisting his neck just like she was taught at SOE, and killed him instantly. She remembers as they positioned the dead body aside, that there was that same flower hanging from the man's front pocket: Grace had taken the flower and studied it, asking herself how come such a beautiful flower was plucked by such murderous and dirty hands.</p><p>Grace had thrown the flower on the ground.</p><p>It was the first and last time that Grace killed a man with her bare hands.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>History fact:</p><p>- the last scene of Grace remembering the killing it's made up by me, BUT Nancy Wake truly killed a SS sentry with her bare hands. In an interview she said: "They'd taught this judo-chop stuff with the flat of the hand at SOE, and I practised away at it. But this was the only time I used it -- whack -- and it killed him all right. I was really surprised."</p><p>See you in the next chapter, one of my personal favourites so far :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. I'll Prove My Worth To You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Shout out to Angelica and Dan because they're absolutely amazing and this story wouldn't be the same without them! Ily ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>One hour later they finally reach the outskirts of Carentan.</p><p>An attack by the 502nd regiment was planned shortly after midnight, but therefore was postponed due to the inability of the engineers to repair the second of the four bridges that separated the Americans from the town. The whole 506th is now stuck behind the causeway, awaiting orders.</p><p>Belly cramps remind Grace she hasn't eaten anything since breakfast, so she takes a K-ration out of her rucksack and starts devouring it. She's glad she's managed to get some more sleep before departing from Culoville, because the only tiredness she feels now is due to the weight of the rucksack; Grace is familiar with the fatigue of days and days of action, with a little sleep and meals, but she has to take on the fact she's never traveled with such a massive burden. The radio itself is super heavy, and she almost regrets bringing it along with her.</p><p>"Hungry, eh, kid?" says a voice next to her, a voice she doesn't recognise.</p><p>Grace narrows her eyes as if it helps to make her see better in the dark, but fails, having to move a little to let the moonlight hit the soldier's face.</p><p>"Yeah, very," she says sheepishly to Bill Guarnere. He comes a little closer to her and in that moment she notices another man next to him, who's almost certain to be Joe Toye. Grace hadn't had the chance to properly meet any of these men yet, with all the things going on and due to the fact she always finds herself surrounded by the men of the 1st platoon. "We haven't been introduced yet, I'm Grace."</p><p>"We know," Toye says, keeping his voice low. "I'm Joe Toye, glad to make your acquaintance."</p><p>"Bill Guarnere."</p><p>"I know, I remember you guys from D-Day," Grace tells them. "When you had to secure Brecourt Manor. Sorry if I haven't introduced myself earlier, there are so many of you guys and to be honest I was a bit shaken by the whole situation."</p><p>Guarnere snorts. "I betcha were, kid!"</p><p>Grace enjoys their company for a little time, even when they start questioning her about her job like everyone else did. She remembers Luz telling her not to mention the importance of knives at war to Joe Toye or he wouldn't shut up about it, so she tells him about her Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife and she offers him to let him use it the next time they meet. They're nice and fun to talk to, just like all of the men she's already met; but Grace can't help but sense a little bit of reluctance towards her and she can't tell if it's because they've been forced to fight alongside a stranger and in addition a woman, or if it's just the vibes she gives off.</p><p>So Grace decides she needs to get out ahead of this thing sooner rather than later.</p><p>"You know," she begins, nodding at her rifle, "I've been trained to use this. I mean, not this piece exactly but guns in general. Have been using them for four years now."</p><p>She can't properly see their faces in the dark, but she catches a sight of them sharing a look with each other; she doesn't know if it's that they understood what Grace meant by that or if they're just wondering why she's bragging herself about being good with weapons.</p><p>"So we've been told," Guarnere says and then, when no one utters another word, he continues. "Listen kid, I'm sure you're good with this, with <em>all </em>of this," he gestures around and Grace begins to understand where this is heading. "Hell, you fucking parachuted into enemy territory and risked your life to save our asses, and I'm sure you're a great woman with a combative spirit..."</p><p>"... but?" she prompts.</p><p>"<em>But</em>, put yourself in our shoes for a moment here, we've been together for more than two years, right? I know Joe's secrets and fears more than mine, we all know each other's lives so deeply you wouldn't understand: I can recognise their footsteps when they're on patrol or when they approach me in the mess hall. In the dark, I can tell who's breathing next to me. And this applies to everybody. I'm sure you're a good soldier and, believe it or not, I'm glad to have you and your wealth of experiences with us, but you can't ask me to trust you just yet."</p><p>These words hit Grace like a sharp blade, and not because she feels hurt by the lack of trust, but because the way Bill defines the bond with his comrades makes her shiver. Their bond is beyond words and she's not one to oppose that. As a matter of fact, she's never known the feeling of that bond with her colleagues at SOE nor with the French Resistance. In all likelihood, it's because the only person who was constantly paired with her during operations was Henri Tardivat: Grace had participated in a large number of missions, but most of them were with different people each time. She has trust issues yet she was asked to cooperate with people she didn't know until the day before.</p><p>Grace respects and understands why Bill Guarnere said those things, and thinking about it she would probably do the same.</p><p>"I understand, Bill, I truly do," she says then, the air surrounding them getting heavier by the minute and not just because of the conversation. "I'm not asking you to trust me, I'm asking you to give me some credit. When the time comes, I'll prove my worth to you."</p><p>Guarnere smirks, grabbing her shoulder and squeezing it.</p><p>"I'm sure you will, kid."</p><p>"Is it true they call you gonorrhea or have I just badly misheard?" Grace asks sincerely curious when she suddenly remembers that important piece of information.</p><p>Guarnere nudges her a little on the head, chuckling.</p><p> </p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p> </p><p>Six days after D-Day, Grace finds herself curled up in one side of the road leading into Carentan. The stench of a three-day battle wafts through the air, making her heart pound and her stomach twist. She scratches her nose with the back of the hand, her usual pale skin now a mass of dirt.</p><p>The last couple of days have been quite chaotic. The battle in the causeway was difficult, but didn't involve the 506th firsthand; the 501st Parachute Infantry and 327th Infantry regiment had to do the dirty work, with them trying to get to all of the bridges leading to Carentan and repel the German subsisting fire. Their movements that night were covered by an all-night artillery bombardment using naval gunfire and tank destroyers that had joined the 327th along the eastern canal. Colonel Sink had the 1st battalion taking up defence positions in the south across the highway, while the 2nd battalion was ordered to attack from the north. Theoretically they should encounter little resistance in the town itself now, but this is yet to be seen.</p><p>Grace is squeezing herself between Perconte and Blithe, her hands having a firm grip on her rifle, when she hears footsteps.</p><p>"What are you doing here?"</p><p>Grace looks up at Richard, who's moving low between the platoons, giving the men instructions and having them ready to finally enter the infamous town.</p><p>"I'm waiting for your order, sir," she states the obvious, or at least, what is obvious to her but clearly not to Richard.</p><p>He crouches down next to her, lowering his voice. "I'm ordering you to head back with Strayer and HQ. Now."</p><p>"What?" Grace protests, frowning. "I'm 1st platoon, this is where I'm supposed to be!"</p><p>"Get back, Grace," Richard almost begs her, his eyes turning worried and sad; it's clear he still doesn't accept the fact she's there and Grace understands, she really does, but that's not the place or time to argue. He sighs, then adds a feeble: "please."</p><p>"If I go back now, they'll think I'm a coward!"</p><p>Richard stands up again, looking at her with sorry eyes. "I'm not gonna say it another time, get back to HQ."</p><p>This is final, Grace knows it, and she also knows that in this very moment he's her <em>commander,</em> no longer her childhood friend Richard. What does it look like if she starts disobeying orders within her first week? Grumbling, she gives him a 'we'll talk about this later' look as she almost crawls until she reaches Major Strayer.</p><p>It's unfair, Grace thinks, that Richard feels the need to send her back for such a stupid reason. Evidently when she told him all about her training and experiences with SOE, he wasn't paying much attention. Above all the men, he is the one who should give her the most confidence and her pride is hurt because of that.</p><p>"In the ditch!" yells a voice all of a sudden, when mortar shots start raining all over them. "Down! Down! Down!"</p><p>Grace watches as the 1st platoon enters the town under enemy fire and hopes for the best, her thoughts immediately going to Welsh and Luz in the front line. Her stomach is burning like hell.</p><p>"Let's go, Easy! Get those MGs moving, will you?" Strayer calls making her startle, gesticulating towards the men even though it's obvious no one is either watching or listening to him, while Richard's moving between the platoons, spurring them to get a move on.</p><p>"Get them going, Buck!" Richard shouts to Compton just a few meters away from her. "Follow me, Easy! Move out, move out! You've got no cover here!"</p><p>And then he's gone, his voice still echoing in the air and in a heartbeat most of the men reach town and disappear from her sight. Grace's ears are being pinched by the sound of mortar shots, bombs, and machine gun fire and she can't stand having to stay behind. So, she does the only thing that makes sense at the moment; without giving a shit about Strayer and HQ next to her, Grace gathers all of her strength and energy and starts running, joining the last men who are entering town, ignoring the screams coming from behind. She will face consequences later. Although, logically, being part of the 1st platoon she should have been inside the town for at least five minutes by now.</p><p>The stench from before gets to her nostrils harshly. The town looks almost empty at first, she spots a few soldiers rushing around the street, avoiding casual gun fire; she holds tight onto her rifle and follows the sound of war coming from her right.</p><p>When Grace rounds the corner, she finds herself in a big square, the remains of destroyed buildings scattered all over the ground. She sees a man kneeling in front of a comrade, who had clearly been hit, so she reaches them: she doesn't know the wounded man, but the other one is Bill Guarnere.</p><p>"Medic!" he yells.</p><p>"Where has he been hit?" Grace asks, crouching down as well, trying to help. A few times she has had to treat the wounded during operations with the French Resistance, mostly bandages, and once she had to take out a bullet, but it didn't end very well.</p><p>"Medic!" Guarnere yells again, keeping pressure to the other man's belly, where blood starts to spread out through the fabric of his jacket. "Looks like it's the hip!"</p><p>As soon as Grace looks up to see if someone managed to hear the call, she spots a German soldier exiting the building in front of them; at first he doesn't see her and Guarnere standing right in front of him, but then his gaze meets Grace and his face goes blank.</p><p>Grace doesn't think twice. Standing up quickly, she takes the pistol out of the holster and shots the man dead, a direct bullet right between his eyes. The feeling of indifference that's rising up in her stomach right now scares her a little: Grace has killed many times over the years, and she can't deny that even if she hates the Germans to death, it's not a pleasant feeling to take someone's life. But right now she doesn't feel that twitch on her chest she usually does.</p><p>Guarnere clearly doesn't realise what happened until he hears the gun, because soon after that his eyes dart from her stretched arm to the dead soldier. She crouches next to the wounded man again, trying to ignore Guarnere's gaze even though it's pricking her head.</p><p>"You saved my life," he just says, still keeping pressure on the wound.</p><p>"As I said... when the time comes, I'll prove my worth to you."</p><p>"Holy fuck, kid!" Guarnere blurts out, an impressed smirk on his face. "Come on, medics are busy elsewhere, help me get Jimmy behind that wall."</p><p>Five minutes later it's chaos: German tanks appearing from nowhere, explosions echoing throughout the cobblestone road, metal splinters hitting anything they can reach. Grace had lost Guarnere the moment after they secured the man beyond a safe wall, and she can't help but think how long it will take for that wall to get destroyed by the panzers.</p><p>After a mortar shot almost chops off her head, she gets cover behind a pillar where other men are, slamming her butt hard on the ground; Grace then points the rifle and starts shooting towards the tanks, trying to take down as many men as possible. She's quite pleased to see that even though she hasn't been in the middle of gunfire in ages, her aim is still pretty good, even with a foreign weapon.</p><p>As soon as the tanks change direction, she sees it as an opportunity to join the soldiers who are clustering around a few buildings away. Grace runs as fast as she can and finds herself in a crossroads where Carwood Lipton is waving his arms and inducing his men to spread out.</p><p>"They got us zeroed! Spread it out, spread it out! Get the hell out of there! Get out of the street!" he's screaming as she passes by. From afar she spots Liebgott and Tipper with other men and doesn't think twice before joining them; right at the moment when she reaches the group, a loud explosion rings out behind her, where she was standing just a moment ago. Grace turns and notices that Lipton is on the ground, evidently caught by the blast and a lump in her throat rises immediately, but then notices that he's moving slightly and a few moments after he's reached by Floyd Talbert.</p><p>Grace sighs in relief, while Liebgott acknowledges her presence.</p><p>"Doll! Get outta there, take cover!" he shouts, waving at her to follow him under the arcade. She does, but stumbles on a rock and bumps abruptly into him, suddenly feeling his arms surrounding her and taking her safe.</p><p>"Check up front!" yells one of the men, gesturing towards a <em>Pharmacie</em> on the other end of the street. "Get Tipper up there with the bazooka!"</p><p>Grace sees Tipper cross the street followed by Liebgott and she doesn't think twice before joining them, avoiding a few shots firing her way. They enter the building which soon they will find out to be empty; after checking every inch of the place including a door on the right, she nods to Liebgott that they're safe to go outside, while Tipper goes to check on the rear. Grace has just stepped outside, when a loud <em>bang</em> spreads in the air surrounding them, and a moment later the <em>Pharmacie</em> blows up into pieces, making her fly to the ground. Her head is ringing loudly as she tries to stand up, feeling disoriented after hitting her temple on a cobble.</p><p>Grace feels a hand on her head, but she doesn't recognise the man who's trying to make her stand; she succeeds eventually, but her sight is a little bit blurred by the blow and her head is pounding loudly, making her collapse again. The soldier manages to grab her, slapping her cheeks a little trying to keep her awake.</p><p>"Tipper..." she mutters, her voice hoarse.</p><p>After a moment she hears Liebgott's muffled voice break through the air; she narrows her eyes until she sees him standing in front of what was the main door of the <em>Pharmacie</em>, as he watches Tipper slowly advance towards him.</p><p>Grace's sight is adjusting now, but she wishes it would have taken another minute so she didn't have to see what she did.</p><p>"Joe? Is that you?" Tipper whimpers, exiting what is left of the building. His face is a complete mess, he's got blood all over it and his left eye has been completely blown off. How the hell he managed to walk outside given the state of his legs, Grace doesn't know: he's got smoke coming out of his right foot and the rest of the leg is horribly mangled.</p><p>"Looking good, Tip. Looking real good," Grace hears Liebgott's voice as he approaches his friend. "Come here, buddy."</p><p>Tipper looks awful and Grace still doesn't understand how he got out of the building <em>on his own feet. </em>She watches as Liebgott cradles him, gently sliding together on the ground.</p><p>"You gotta sit down. Come one, easy, easy. There ya go," he's saying to Tipper, who's shivering hard and has his lone eye darting from his foot to his legs. Liebgott holds him tight and rests his head on Tipper's helmet, clearly shocked by what he's forced to see. "We're gonna get you fixed up, all right? Okay, guys, you wanna give me a hand here? Come on."</p><p>Grace approaches them because she wants to help, and as soon as she gets closer her stomach starts raising up and down at the sight of Tipper's face.</p><p>"Grace, we got this, go take cover over there," Liebgott reassures her, while the two men that were with them are taking Tipper away from the street.</p><p>"You sure?"</p><p>"Yeah, go."</p><p>She nods and automatically follows the sound of shooting, still feeling a bit dizzy from the fall. Grace feels like a vagabond: she's been roaming around since they got into Carentan, not knowing what to do and who to follow in that whole mess. If Richard had left her with her platoon like she was supposed to do, perhaps she wouldn't feel like this. By this point she would have Harry Welsh giving her instructions and things might have been simpler. It's true she's a leader, but now she's in a different line of work and there's no place for wannabe heroes.</p><p>Grace hears a very familiar voice and follows the sound.</p><p>"Hey Malark! You see what I'm seeing?" comes Skip Muck's voice from behind the corner and she basically feels her feet jumping impatiently towards it. She reaches them in time to see the priest of the Company crouching down onto the motionless bodies of their fellow comrades, giving them his blessing.</p><p>"Crazy fools, the Irish!" shouts Malarkey in response.</p><p>"You should know!"</p><p>"Guys!" Grace announces her presence, moving towards Muck and resting her back on the cold stone wall, her breath rising up and down fast. "You alright?"</p><p>"Oi, glad to see you all in one piece!" Muck exclaims, patting her shoulder.</p><p>"Yeah, tell that to Tipper."</p><p>"What?" Malarkey asks, rounding a series of bullets towards a house and then looking back at her. "Is he...?"</p><p>Grace nods, clearing her throat. "He's alive, for now. Got himself all torn up by a mortar shell."</p><p>"Shit," Muck curses under his breath. "Let's hope for the best."</p><p>Grace sees a couple of German soldiers sneaking up to the building where she, Malarkey and Muck are taking shelter, so she points her rifle and takes them down with two clear shots. Malarkey raises a brow at her, impressed.</p><p>"Let's hope for us to get out of here first, eh?"</p><p>"You might have a point. What happened to your head, anyway?"</p><p>Grace brings a hand to her temple, wincing at the contact of her fingers with her skin: the adrenaline might have made her forget just for a moment about the explosion and her heavy fall, but her head is still bouncing like a coconut.</p><p>"I'm okay, I got into a fight with a guy... you should see him," she jokes, a feeble smile on her face.</p><p>That battle looks an infinite hell, it seems as if it was a week ago that they were all curled up on the route outside town. Grace feels her muscles burning, then a mixed feeling between exhaustion and excitement flowing up in her veins; she's euphoric but at the same time she feels like if she closes her eyes she might fall asleep on the spot.</p><p>"There you are!" She hears a familiar voice but Grace instinctively points her weapon at the person who's coming towards her, soon realising it's Shifty Powers. Well, better safe than sorry. "Come, there's work for us!"</p><p>Grace waves distractedly at Malarkey and Muck before joining Shifty on the run. They soon are joined by Smokey Gordon, a nice fella she had the pleasure of talking to just the day before, and Alton More. They enter a building while other men are shouting things she can't quite comprehend; they go up a series of flights of stairs, until they reach the top of the edifice. Gordon places the tripod and then the machine gun on the windowsill and starts firing, while Shifty beckons her to follow him to the other window and Grace finds herself looking at an indescribable show: in front of them, beyond what remains of the buildings below, a huge expanse of grass welcomes about fifty Germans who are fleeing the town.</p><p>Grace points her M1 Garand and starts shooting, immediately followed by Shifty. She blinks a couple of times before she actually can see clearly each man, she's still a bit dazed and takes her a few moments to properly adjust her sight. Not even two minutes in and the Germans are all dead on the ground.</p><p>Twenty minutes later, Grace is smoking a cigarette with Joe Toye and Hoobler when she spots Richard not far away, his eyes fixed on some papers he's holding. She's happy to notice he's doing okay, no sign of any wounds. She's thinking about going to him, when all of a sudden a white horse whizzes by them and reaches Richard; this might be one of the strangest things Grace has ever seen, honestly. She watches as the man on the horse and Richard talk, the cigarette wearing out between her fingers and Toye and Hoobler's voices muffled by her own thoughts. Grace did it, she survived her first day of combat with the Airborne. She did it and Richard had better acknowledge her value because she won't stand another affront like the one from before; she feels insulted just as much as when people don't trust her judgement or command only because she's a woman, even though she knows Richard is not like that. Nevertheless it's how he made her feel, and she didn't like that.</p><p>She quickly salutes her comrades and marches towards Richard as soon as the man on the horse is moving away, a secure step and her pride flickering in her chest.</p><p>When Richard spots her, he almost drops the papers and runs to meet her; he looks happy and relieved, but at the same time a little bit worried too.</p><p>Grace motions towards the horse that has just disappeared. "Fancy," she comments.</p><p>Richard tries a small smile, nodding. "What can I say, we get spies, the 501st gets horses."</p><p>"Are you by any chance comparing me to a horse?"</p><p>"No!" Richard exclaims in embarrassment. "No, not at all. Are you feeling okay? What happened to your head?"</p><p>Grace brings a hand to her temple: the pain from being flung off her feet by that explosion is not as awful as before, but her head is still spinning like a carousel and she's convinced that it won't stop anytime soon. She can live with that, a bouncing head is nothing compared to people who are much worse off than her, like Tipper, whose eye exploded and probably risks losing a leg too.</p><p>"It's just a scratch," she says eventually, but then she feels like she can't hold it back anymore so she blurts out what she wanted to tell him since that moment outside Carentan. "Look, Richard, let's get this straight right now before it's too late. I hate how you treated me earlier in front of your men. You made me feel like I was an outsider, like I wasn't enough, like I wasn't worth being with you all and I know that you're worried about me being here, but please don't take me off missions just because I'm your <em>stubborn little monkey.</em> Which I'm not anymore, if we're being honest. I'm a grown woman and I've seen and done more things than I like to admit and excuse me if I tell you I deserve to be here as much as you do. You're my friend, Rich, but here you're my commander and I respect that. And I'm on a par with your men and you too must act accordingly. To each their own role, and I hope that in the future you'll respect that because I might not obey your orders if you decide to always keep me off action."</p><p>Grace catches her breath as she lets Richard digest what she just said. She can tell he feels quite defeated, but it's not like he hasn't seen this coming.</p><p>"Grace, the last thing I want is to make you feel unwanted, especially after all you've been through with your family. Believe me when I say you're worth more than you think, and⎯"</p><p>"Don't give me that bullshit, Rich. Please. I know you care about me, but I need you to let me go, you can't protect me forever. I've managed five years of war, mostly all on my own. I can tell you're worried about me being here, I get that, but I need you to<em> trust me</em> because if you don't, neither will your men."</p><p>Those words seem to have hit the mark. Richard looks at her with a mixture of perplexity and sadness, but in her heart Grace knows that he agrees.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Grace," he says with a low voice, "I truly am. I don't want you to feel that way, I guess I'm just worried sick. I love that you're here, but at the same time I hate it and I don't know how to pretend you're like the other guys when all I can see is my eight year old friend who wants to become a pilot."<br/>Grace scoffs, shaking her head. "Poor her."</p><p>"I've heard you did well today, anyway," Richard says, a barely perceptible hint of pride in his voice and clearly eager to change the subject. Grace has a feeling this ain't over yet. "The men said you did great on the field, that you saved some of them and took many Krauts down."</p><p>She can't help but wonder who would say that to Richard, maybe it was Guarnere; thinking about it, it's not like she engaged much with the others, she feels like she's spent more time running around, trying to find someone to stick to. Grace doesn't like that, she doesn't like the lack of camaraderie, but concomitantly can't blame the men. The one thing that she's proud of, is when Shifty came up to her asking for help knocking the Germans down from that high building. That was an amazing sensation and she needs to thank Shifty for that.</p><p>Grace is about to respond when she sees Lewis Nixon approaching them with a smug look on his face. She remembers him being there with the HQ when Richard had sent her back before entering town, and she can't help but being a little bit embarrassed even though she's quite sure that Nixon was on her side. She then notices Major Strayer and other men hidden behind a wall just a few feet from him.</p><p>"Lieutenant Winters," the Major calls him with an uncertain tone.</p><p>Richard's gaze move from Nixon to Strayer, he probably didn't notice that he was there. "Yes, sir?"</p><p>"Is it safe to cross now?" Strayer asks, leaving Richard and Grace a little bit confused.</p><p>"What's that, sir?"</p><p>"Is it safe to cross?" he questions again, eyes darting from him to Grace. "We wanna move the wounded."</p><p>In that moment Grace ponders if, before entering Carentan, he knew that Richard had put her in the back and therefore she disobeyed a direct order, or if he thought she was being a coward and went back on her own. She's under the impression that Strayer doesn't like her that much, and this might lead to him liking her even less.</p><p>"Yes, sir," Richard confirms then, still a bit confused by that conversation. He and Nixon exchange a puzzled look as Strayer and his men come out of hiding. While he passes by them, Grace's immediate thoughts go to the men of her platoon; apart from Hoobler and Randleman, she hasn't had the chance to find them to know if they're okay. She's quite positive she's seen Harry Welsh throwing a grenade into a building at some point, but that's it. No sign of others, no sign of George Luz.</p><p>"Come on," says Richard, startling her. "Let's go."<br/>Not even two footsteps in, and a dull sound breaks through the air: Grace instinctively turns to Richard, and instantly notices his aching expression, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. It takes her a moment to realise that he's been hit, and a high fear goes back to her stomach.</p><p>"Rich!" she screams, hauling herself to him.</p><p>Richard leans the back onto the wall, and in that moment she notices he got hit on the leg. Grace can't help but be a little bit relieved at that. She helps him get to the temporary aid station they set up in one of those buildings that managed to survive the warfare, where a lot of wounded men lie there on stretchers and the less serious ones on the ground, due to the lack of room. Eugene Roe makes Richard sit on the table as he treats him: luckily it's just a ricochet, it will make him limp for some time but overall it's nothing serious. Grace keeps him company, their little argument from before is now a distant memory. Just when Roe manages to take the bullet out of Richard's leg, Buck Compton enters the room, his eyes moving bashfully from him to his leg. Grace listens as they talk about the next move, with Richard telling them the battalion wants them to head east, to set up a defensive position. So, that's it. They fought and won Carentan and now they're moving once again. Since Grace joined Easy Company, they've done nothing but move from town to town; it's as if they get them to do their dirty work, then other people get to enjoy it.</p><p>When Buck leaves them, Grace sees it as an opportunity to go as well, leaving Richard to rest for some time, even though she's quite sure he wouldn't even think about it. As expected he protests a little, but the truth is Grace can't wait to be alone even for just a few minutes.</p><p>She says goodbye to her friend with a kiss on the cheek, promising him she's going to find him later and then exits the building. Grace was hoping for some fresh air, instead she can't help but be disappointed by the stench that still lingers in the air; she leans against the nearest wall and then lets herself slide to the ground, a sudden fatigue makes her head feel heavy and her muscles ache.</p><p>The moment she lets herself go a bit, all the exhaustion accumulated in the past few days invades her like fire. Grace is sure if she closes her eyes now, she won't wake up for at least two days. Suddenly the image of that German soldier she shot just a couple of hours ago comes to her mind; she can't help but wonder if his face went blank because he saw her face, he saw she was a woman, or because he knew he was fucked. All in all, she's wearing a uniform that hides her curves, a helmet that hides her hair and a mask of dirt that hides her delicate features.</p><p>No way the Germans would bother to check, after all they wouldn't expect a woman in the Army, right? Who knows if it will be like that from now on, with her killing every person who sees her as she is.</p><p>Grace's eyes squeeze shut as she remembers something: she rifles through her bag, finding almost immediately what she was looking for and she can't pretend to be surprised when she realises her code radio is broken. Again. This time the damage looks permanent, because apparently at some point her bag was hit by a bullet that passed through the device from side to side.</p><p>Grace moans loudly, her head slamming back onto the wall.</p><p>With the corner of the eye she sees someone leaning against the wall right next to her, their arms touching; she doesn't have the strength to discover who that is, but she might have an idea. Grace hears him lighting himself a cigarette, the smell of smoke instantly going up her nostrils, but other than that he stays silent. They stay like that for some time, keeping each other company in silence, only the sound of their breathing filling the air surrounding them.</p><p>Grace sighs, her look moving to the man sitting next to her, finding him staring at an indefinite point in front of him, the cigarette almost completely consumed between his dingy fingers.</p><p>"Are you okay?" she asks.</p><p>George Luz snorts, his mouth forming a half smile while his gaze remains steady. "Yeah, unlike your devilish radio, I'd say."</p><p>"You don't seem so convinced."</p><p>"I'm okay," Luz confirms, giving her a tired pat on the leg. "What about you?"</p><p>"Tired," Grace mutters. "Exhausted. Angry. Hungry. Did I say tired?"</p><p>Luz snorts again, flipping what remains of the cigarette on the ground. "Just so you know, Bill is going around telling anybody how you saved his ass and Shifty is praising your aim to anyone willing to listen."</p><p>Grace smirks, and it's been so long since she had to move her facial muscles that it almost hurts. She doesn't even want to know what her face must look like now, with all the dirt, the fumes and the thickened blood.</p><p>"I'm gonna ask you a question and I'm expecting you to be utterly honest with me," Grace declares, her look is now on the ground, finding a cobble not far from her feet particularly interesting. "Like, brutally honest."</p><p>She can't see Luz's face but she knows he's doing that thing he always does with his lips, curving them down. "Sure. Shoot."</p><p>"How bad do I stink from zero to ten?"</p><p>"Um, two," he shrugs, and Grace doesn't believe him one single bit. The last time she had a shower it was maybe more than a week ago, there's no way she's stinking only <em>two</em>.</p><p>"Luz."</p><p>"Okay, maybe four."</p><p>"George Luz you promised me honesty."</p><p>"<em>Fine!</em> Eight?"</p><p>"<em>Eight?</em>"</p><p>Grace brings her nose towards her shoulder, not daring to actually smell her own armpit. Okay, it's obviously not her fault if she smells, like, who doesn't at this point? Still, it's an awful feeling, she usually feels awkward when this happens - which is inevitable during long days missions. She's surprised to think that at this very moment, she doesn't bother that much.</p><p>"Hey! You wanted honesty, now don't get mad at me for keeping my promise!" Luz protests, nudging her a little.</p><p>Grace is not having it, there's no way she lets him get away with this. "Just so you know, if I'm a eight, you're a nine."</p><p>He snorts, leaning back his head against the wall like Grace. Their looks get lost in each other's for a few, eternal seconds and she thinks she could stay like that a few hours more, but then Luz breaks the silence.</p><p>"I guess I can live with that."</p><p>Grace lets out a loud, happy laugh.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to Dan for beta reading this, I love you so much, and thank you Angie for the constant support ♥ each vote and comment is appreciated and help this story going!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The door slams loudly as Grace exits the building. </p><p>She's just spent the last hour keeping Richard company. The bullet that pierced his calf luckily didn't do any serious damage, the only thing is that he would probably be limping for the next couple of weeks. He hasn’t told her, but Grace knows he’s ashamed for getting hit in such a stupid and absurd way, and not even during the actual battle. </p><p>The nice thing about their hour together is that they haven't talked about the war even for a minute; Grace mentioned Scotland, because she should have been there right in this very moment, and from then on they did nothing but talk about trips and countries they want to visit. Nixon had joined the conversation at some point, and it was fun: Grace had learned he’s from New York, traveled quite a lot and that he went to Yale for two years. Lewis Nixon has a personality opposite to Richard’s, but Grace can see why they became such good friends and why Richard trusts him with his own life. She wonders if she'll ever be able to trust anyone at that level again.</p><p>But now, as she walks aimlessly, the only thing that Grace can think about is her broken radio and that she has no way of even knowing if Henri Tardivat made it out of Normandy and reached England in one piece. Or reached it at all.</p><p>“Miss Whitehead.” </p><p>Grace hears a voice calling her name from behind, and can’t bring herself to hide her surprise when she finds Ronald Speirs’ face a few inches from hers. After their first awkward encounter on D-Day, Grace had barely seen him around; he’s a CO in Dog Company, and given her being surrounded by the men of Easy twenty four hours a day she hasn’t got the chance to make acquaintance with men from other companies.</p><p>Grace suddenly remembers the look he gave her and Henri that day, saying he ran out of ammunition as if he wanted to use it on them. Insane.</p><p>“Lieutenant Speirs,” she salutes him.</p><p>“Nice scar you have there,” he motions at her face, his eyes still piercing through her skull and she can’t help but feel a little bit in distress. She doesn’t know why Speirs has that effect on her, she just knows his gaze is so inquisitive that she feels almost violated. Generally in these circumstances she's able to maintain a calm and relaxed temperament, after all she was trained for that too, so she's somewhat surprised to notice that she's having a hard time maintaining her position. She won't give herself away, but this doesn't mean it doesn't upset her.</p><p>“Which one?” Grace asks, scratching her nose as an excuse to break eye contact with the man. “Krauts gifted me with a few.”</p><p>The corner of Speirs’ mouth quirks up, his eyes still wandering all over her face as if he’s trying to study her features. Grace doesn’t know what’s currently happening, all she knows is that she’s just spotted Skip Muck not far from them and hopefully he will see her and run to her rescue. He’s walking his unmistakable hopping walk, when he miraculously raises his look towards her, gives her an enthusiastic wave and then goes to meet a group of people who are sat on the ground. </p><p><em> Traitor, </em> she thinks, taking a mental note to make him pay later. It’s not that she properly needs  to be rescued, she’s good at getting by even in the most troublesome situations, but she can’t deny it would’ve been nice not to have Speirs’ stinging gaze on her for much longer.</p><p>“The newest one, there, on your temple,” Speirs breaks her thoughts. “You got out of that mess with just a scratch. Impressive.”</p><p>Well, Grace surely didn’t see that coming. She had thought his inquisitive look would lead him to expose his doubts and concerns about the company, and blah blah. It’s always the same story, that she's not worthy of being welcomed to the airborne because she's a stranger and moreover a woman. And blah blah… blah. Instead Grace is surprised to hear no judgement in Speirs’ voice, nor in his gaze.</p><p>“I know this is hard to believe, but I’ve been at war for the past four years.”</p><p>“Let me tell you,” Speirs starts, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his front pocket and offering one to Grace, who politely declines, “I’ve seen you shooting down those Germans, so no, I don’t think that’s hard to believe.”</p><p>Grace blinks at him several times, not sure what to say. She feels a bit guilty for the way she thought about him just moments before, and now he’s even <em> complimenting </em> her. Because Grace isn’t stupid, she knows that was a compliment. </p><p>“Thank you, Lieutenant, I’m glad I got something out of my training.”</p><p>Speirs smirks feebly, then nods to her. “I have a feeling we’ve seen nothing yet.”</p><p>Grace watches as Speirs walks away. She must admit that conversation has drained her energy away and she doesn’t even know why. The man creeps her out a little, maybe because he reminds her of some men in the French Resistance who she got to work with. Men she didn’t like. She's not a person who tends to get scared easily, in fact this is not a matter of <em> fear </em> : everything revolves around her trust issues, and now at this point she finds herself comparing every person she meets to someone she has worked with over the years and this gives her a bit of prejudice. That's wrong and Grace is aware of that, but there's nothing she can do about it right now. She managed to go through all those years of war, dealing with betrayal and death and suffering, thanks to her temperament and her being... well, her being <em> Grace </em>. The fact that she's a detached person and always having a special consideration for the people she meets has shaped her to behave a certain way.</p><p>Maybe it's time to loosen up a little, but she's not sure she can do it alone.</p><p>Grace feels a hand gripping her shoulder and without thinking twice, she grabs the person’s wrist with an impressive speed and she’s about to twist it like she’s taught at SOE, when she realises it’s only Harry Welsh.</p><p>“Hi, Harry!” she exclaims, loosening her hold immediately, an apologetic look on her face. “Sorry about that.”</p><p>“Holy fuck,” Welsh grumbles, massaging his own hand. “No need to be this savage with me!”</p><p>“I’m sorry! It’s a force of habit, I just zoned out for a moment.”</p><p>Welsh plays the victim a little more, just to piss her off, then when Grace gives him the eye he just smirks. It’s in these moments she finds it the easiest to let herself go a little, and Grace wonders if her growing relationship with the members of Easy Company will actually help her with her trust issues. It’s still early to call it a proper <em> friendship, </em>but they’re the closest thing to home she’s been feeling for the past week. Also, Henri Tardivat has been trying to scratch her impenetrable armor for years, she doesn't see how they could do it in the little time they are forced to spend together.</p><p>Grace notices Welsh is all geared up and suddenly she understands.</p><p>“Oh fuck, we’re moving out again, ain’t we?”</p><p>Welsh’s mouth curves into a sympathetic smile. “War goes on, and so are we.”</p><p>And yes, that makes completely sense, but it's definitely not an element that makes her like it more, anyway.</p><p>“We just took Carentan, and it’s not like that was a breeze,” Grace complains, quirking up an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t we stay and defend it? This town is as important to the Germans as it is to us, and it was way too easy, if you ask me. They’ll want it back, I have no doubt about that.”</p><p>Welsh studies her face, a shadow of amazement in his eyes; since Grace was forced into war a week ago, she did nothing but listen and obey orders as it should be, so perhaps he’s surprised to see she’s rebelling against them. Not properly rebelling, but speaking out, giving life to her concerns and knowledge in tactics.</p><p>“It’s what we’re gonna do, actually. Defending the town from counterattacks,” Welsh confirms, waving at her to follow him. “Just not from here.”</p><p>Grace scoffs. She feels a little bit dumb, protesting in vain over orders and having a Lieutenant explaining her the basics. It’s just the fact that she’s been with them for exactly six days and she’s never felt so <em> useless </em>in her entire life, not even when her father used to call her just that. Grace is used to action, she’s used to weeks and weeks of little rest and food, she’s used to long arduous trips. Hell, she’s not going to forget that time when she rode a bicycle for more than 500 miles through several German checkpoints, just to replace codes that her wireless operator was forced to destroy during a raid. </p><p>The reason why she feels so unsuitable and useless isn’t the fact that they are being moved from town to town almost every day, but because she feels she has no role in the company. Not that it belongs to her by right, after all she's nobody to them, she's just an individual to protect in order to protect themselves. But she's not used to feeling like nobody, not anymore. Grace wants to be someone, she wants to put her knowledge at the airborne’s disposal and she feels like they're not willing to let her just yet. </p><p>And come to think of it, it makes more sense to defend the town from strategic points rather than holding up inside. She too would have taken this choice, after all it's the most logical and logic is one of her specialties. She was just being self-pitying and bitter towards the world in general. Jesus Christ, what was happening to her lately?</p><p>“Penny for your thoughts?” </p><p>“I won’t say shit for just a penny, Harry,” Grace laughs and he follows her suit, his laughter so clean and sincere. </p><p>At first Grace didn’t pay attention to where they were going, until she sees a small group of people sprawled on some steps: they seem to be engaged in a deep conversation, their eyes moving uncertainty, and every now and then they land on a figure now distant that Grace recognises to be Ronald Speirs.</p><p>“Let’s go! 1st platoon!” Welsh shouts, making them startle. “Weapons on me. We’re moving out.”</p><p>The men all get up with slackness, it's evident that they too don't have much desire to march again. Malarkey and Muck share a knowing look, which makes Grace snort, and even if they’re not 1st platoon they start to get ready as well. Because if the 1st platoon is moving, so are the others.</p><p>“That means you, Private Blithe,” he adds, and Grace finds herself looking at the man who’s still lying on the ground, an arm to cover his eyes to protect them from the sun. Or from people’s stares. She can’t help but think of his face when they found that German paratrooper in the forest.</p><p>“Come on bud, get up,” encourages More, before moving away along with Penkala.</p><p>Welsh winks at Grace, and then heads off to call for the others.</p><p>“Why was Speirs’ crazy ass so interesting?” she asks, approaching them. </p><p>Malarkey breaks off a laugh, fixing the rifle on his shoulder. “We were talking about him on D-Day...”</p><p>“You mean when he hosed down all those German prisoners?” Grace questions again and then, when she finds both of them staring at her with wide eyes, she shrugs. “What? I was there, I saw. I mean, I didn’t actually see <em> him </em> shooting at them, but Henri and I arrived just when they were freeing the path from the dead bodies. And he went like ‘who’s this, I ran out of ammo’ as if he wanted to kill us too.”</p><p>“Oh my god,” Muck says as they start walking. “So it must be true, then. Also, great impression of Speirs you have there. What did he want from you earlier, anyway?”</p><p>“I think he wanted to… congratulate me or something.”</p><p>“Weird,” Muck comments, a quizzical look on his face. </p><p>“About that, knowing his murderous reputation you still left me under his clutches!” Grace protests, faking an offended tone. Evidently it doesn't work with him, because he gives her a funny admonishing look. </p><p>“I knew you would handle him just fine,” he says. “I bet he was the one who needed rescuing.”</p><p>“Hey!” Grace objects, earning a cackle from Malarkey. </p><p>They walk together, chatting about this and that; Grace doesn’t know exactly where they’re heading, all she knows is that for the past half an hour they’ve been walking the route that connects Carentan to Baupte while the 501st will be coming down from Hill 30 along the causeway to Périers. Apparently, according to the American intelligence, there were German troops waiting to win the town back, so their job was simple but intense: don’t let them.</p><p>They are walking in an open field now, and it’s almost scary how quiet that place is even with hundreds of feet trampling the grass.</p><p>“<em> I wrote my mother, </em>” Grace hears all of a sudden, turning her head to Muck. Was he really…? </p><p>She clears her throat as she starts following Muck’s singing. “<em> I wrote my father. </em>”</p><p>He almost jumps in surprise, raising an eyebrow before giving her a big smile. “<em> And now I'm writing you too! </em>”</p><p>Grace can’t help but keep their little gig going. “<em> I’m sure of mother, I’m sure of father... </em>”</p><p>“<em> Now I wanna be sure of you! </em>”</p><p>Grace and Muck fix their looks on each other, then sing together: “<em> Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me, anyone else but me, anyone else but me, no no no…! </em>”</p><p>“Oh Christ,” Malarkey shakes his head at them. “At least you’ve got yourself a career for when we leave this place.”</p><p>In the meantime the weather decides to change, and she's soon soaked by a light drizzle, so she stretches a little to keep her stiffening muscles warm. She can cope with every kind of weather, but she hates the rain. Paradoxically she hates it even more when it's almost imperceptible rather than when it pours down incessantly.</p><p>“Fuck, Grace, didn’t take you for an Andrews Sisters fan!” exclaims Muck in excitement.</p><p>“You kidding?” she replies. “They’re my absolute favourites! Along with Glenn Miller they play my favourite music.”</p><p>Looks like Skip Muck can’t contain himself anymore, because finding out Grace’s tastes in music are the same as his makes him over the moon. Grace beams at him, it’s the first time she finds herself talking about music with someone in ages and she would pay any price to listen to a song at this very moment. She misses music a lot, so even talking about it with Muck makes her happy.</p><p>“Hear me out,” Muck begins, shoving Malarkey aside and slipping between him and Grace, “Mr Miller will be hosting concerts all over England for the whole summer! If we ever get out of this shit place, we <em> must </em>go! Malark? You in?”</p><p>Malarkey scoffs. “Of course I’m in! He’s my favourite, I wouldn’t miss a concert of his for anything in the world.”</p><p>“Great!” Muck exclaims, all excited. Grace loves them: they’re in the middle of war and yet he’s there, organising events for when they’ll be back to England. “Grace? Mind you, you’re not allowed to say no.”</p><p>Grace laughs at him, shaking her head. “I’m gonna have to quote Malark and say that I wouldn’t miss a concert of his for anything in the world!”</p><p>After spending the last five minutes organising the summer concerts, as if they were on vacation, Grace spots a little group that included Luz, Perconte and Hoobler not far from them and decides to join them. She absentmindedly says goodbye to the member of their new improvised band, <em> The Whitehead Muck, </em> and their manager Donald Malarkey, and heads to the other group of men.</p><p>Still with a smile plastered on her face, she reaches them and pokes gently at Luz to announce her presence. </p><p>“Hey,” he welcomes her. Grace is under the impression she interrupted some heavy thoughts, but she doesn’t say anything. “I was just wondering if we’d left you in Carentan.”</p><p>“You wish,” she comments. “I was just spying on you guys from behind.”</p><p>“You got to do your actual job, then,” Perconte smirks, and Grace is sure that was meant to be just a joke, but she can't help but feel saddened. After all, feeling useless has been her primary concern in the last few days. She just smiles feebly at Perconte, and keeps walking in silence.</p><p>“Shut the fuck up, Frank,” Luz says, then lays his eyes on her again. “We were just talking about interesting things such as birthdays. Frank here is one of the oldest, don’t let his short ass trick you.”</p><p>Grace breaks off a laughter. “I honestly thought you were one of the youngest, sorry.”</p><p>Perconte rolls his eyes, repressing a smile. “Well, let’s hope this will also work when I'm fifty. If I get there.”</p><p>“While Hoobler,” Luz continues, gesturing towards Hoobler, who’s walking a few feet ahead of them, “is one of the youngest.”</p><p>Hoobler waves in victory. “I’ll be twenty-two at the end of the month!” He says without even bothering to turn back. </p><p>Grace’s eyes go round. “Hey, me too, Hoob!”</p><p>“Wait,” Luz frowns at her, his helmet slightly falling off to his left, “you mean you turn twenty-two or that your birthday is at the end of June?”</p><p>“Both,” she shrugs, suddenly thinking that was the first time in ages she revealed her age to someone that wasn’t SOE. “Don’t feel bad if you thought I’m thirty or something, apparently it’s a common mistake, so I don’t take it personally… anymore.”</p><p>Even Hoobler turns his look to her now; clearly they’re all shocked she’s so young, but that doesn’t make any sense to her. Grace has met and worked with many agents much younger than herself; her friend and colleague Hannah was only seventeen when she died in her arms.</p><p>“When’s your birthday, Grace?” Perconte asks.</p><p>“Next week, on June 18th.”</p><p>“No fucking way!” Luz almost screams, making some heads turn, shushing them. “Mine’s on the 17th! You kidding, we almost share a birthday!”</p><p>“Ooooh, we must be soulmates then!” Grace mocks him, mimicking his excited tone. “Can’t wait to share presents.”</p><p>Hoobler bursts out laughing, earning another shushing from the same guys from before, and even Perconte can't hold back a laugh this time. Luz looks a bit embarrassed, which is unusual of him, but he hints a smile too, mouthing a 'fuck off' under his breath.</p><p>“I’ll gift you ten bullets if you gift me a grenade,” he says eventually.</p><p>“Hey, Luz,” calls Perconte, interrupting their talk. “How far are we going?”</p><p>Luz rolls his eyes at Grace, who chuckles. “Oh Jesus Christ, Frank. I don’t know,” he says, nudging her a little. “Until they tell us to stop.”</p><p>“High ground. There’s high ground up ahead,” explains Hoobler as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.</p><p>Perconte seems annoyed, but Grace can’t help but be amused by his complaint.</p><p>“Okay, genius,” he starts again. She quickly glances at Luz next to her and almost breaks off into a laugh because of his funny face. “Answer me this, then: why is Easy Company the only company who’s either at the front of an advance or, like now, exposed at the far edge of the line?”</p><p>Grace has to admit, though, that he has a point: she noticed that too, whenever Division wants scouts or whenever they need them to move, Easy Company is always in the front line. The 506th has nine companies, yet they’re never in the middle. It’s like all or nothing.</p><p>“To keep you on your toes,” Hoobler replies.</p><p>“No. That’s not what I’m saying!” Perconte protests, and Grace still can’t take his allegation so seriously when he pouts like that. “I’m saying, we’re never in the middle. And we’re the fifth of nine companies of this regiment. Able through Item. Think of it.”</p><p>Perconte had just blurted out the exact same thoughts she was having a moment before, and honestly she doesn’t feel like mocking him anymore. That’s the worst feeling, and she well knows it, she’s been there a few times herself. It’s the job, but it’s nice to take a breath sometimes, even if that means just staying in the back.</p><p>“See there? You see that⎯” Hoobler begins, but suddenly it’s chaos.</p><p>One moment they’re walking quietly through the field, discussing birthdays, the next bullets and mortar rounds rain down on them violently. Grace stupidly covers her ears, and a second later she's knocked to the ground by someone: she looks to her left and sees Luz, an arm surrounding her shoulders as if that would protect her from a mortar shot. </p><p>“Incoming!” Someone shouts and, well, thank you very much. </p><p>Grace slithers through the grass like a snake, still feeling Luz’s presence close to hers.</p><p>“Contact right! Get in the hedgerow!” she hears someone calling and it sounds like Welsh’s voice, but she’s not sure. After what seems like hours of crawling Grace finds shelter behind the hedgerow, and is pleased to see that most of her comrades made it unscathed.</p><p>Grace holds onto her rifle and then places it just above a mound of earth and starts firing wildly. Only a hundred-meter-long field separates them from the Germans, but a hundred meters can mean either all or nothing in war.</p><p>
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</p><p>It’s almost three o’ clock am and Grace is curled up in a foxhole with Bull Randleman. </p><p>She hasn’t had much sleep that night, but she doesn’t care because she feels wide awake; the excess of adrenaline has always played weird tricks on her but Grace is glad it happened this time. Randleman isn’t keen on sleep either, so they had basically spent a few hours just talking. They talked about this and that, they talked about the most insignificant things because in war even the most ridiculous thing can become the most important. Grace learns that he was born in Arkansas and dropped out of college to enlist nearly two years ago. She tells him a little about herself, about her friendship with Richard when they were still living in the States and a general picture of her later years in England. Also, Grace learns about a terrible event that happened not long ago, in which all NCOs mutinied against their old captain, a certain Herbert Sobel. Randleman tells her about what training with Sobel had been like and, fuck, looks like those guys went through a lot.</p><p>“Fuck, Bull, that sounds quite tragic if you ask me,” Grace comments, still shocked that those guys managed to get out of mutiny alive. “They could’ve been sentenced to death.”</p><p>He scoffs. “Yeah, kid, apparently they were aware.”</p><p>“But, what was in it for them?” </p><p>“I mean,” he starts, shrugging, “the choices were either being put against a wall and shot or being killed under Sobel’s lead on D-Day.”</p><p>“Couldn’t have been sure about that, though,” Grace protests. “A bad leader doesn’t define a whole company.”</p><p>“You’re right, but a company depends on its leaders and believe me when I say that in the field this guy was more dangerous than a hidden mine.”</p><p>Grace believes him, she’s actually experienced bad leadership herself. Luckily for her - and her colleagues - she’s always been smart enough to know when a commander was putting her in a bad situation, and always managed to prevent tragedies. Until she became a captain herself: she trusts her own instincts and her knowledge in the matter, which are some of the most important ingredients to become a good leader.</p><p>After all, Grace’s superiors have always said one of her best attributes as an agent is that she’s a fast thinker. Especially in battle, either your brain works at the speed of light, or you might as well be dead.</p><p>“Grace.”</p><p>Grace looks up to find Richard’s figure standing above them in the dark. She stands up, her limbs sore from the hours spent crouched in that hole; with Richard being there now, Grace takes it as an excuse to stretch her legs a bit.</p><p>“Bull, nice chat,” she says as she stands up, patting his knee. “Gonna take a walk, then I’ll come to relieve you.”</p><p>“Sure thing, kid.”</p><p>Grace walks away with Richard at her side, who’s still limping. It’s such a nice feeling to finally be able to free her legs from that uncomfortable position, Grace can’t think of people who literally spend days like that.</p><p>“Did you hear that?” Grace whispers to him when she hears a rustle not far from them. It's barely audible, but after years and years of ambushes and eavesdropping, Grace's hearing is more developed than any of her other senses. </p><p>“What?” Richard asks and all of a sudden a figure appears in front of them. “Flash!” he says, pointing his rifle at the man.</p><p>“Thunder! Thunder!” the other one replies, raising his hands. “Fuck, you scared me, sir. I thought I was being quiet.”</p><p>It’s Johnny Martin, Grace recognises him from his voice rather than his face hidden in the dark. </p><p>“You were, but apparently her hearing doesn’t agree. What are you doing?”</p><p>“Lieutenant Welsh joined me and Blithe in our foxhole, so I took the opportunity to go pee, sir,” Martin announces a little bit embarrassed. “I have a reason to believe he’s… not fully himself.”</p><p>Grace doesn’t understand what Martin means by that, so she just glances at Richard only to see his face scrunched up.</p><p>“Where is he, Martin?”</p><p>“Over there, sir,” Martin points between a couple of trees behind him. “Sir.”</p><p>Richard heads to the spot Martin pointed out to him, and Grace follows him without a word. It takes them little time to find Harry Welsh, curled up in the hole with Albert Blithe who has the face of someone who would like to be anywhere else but there with the Lieutenant.</p><p>“Harry,” Richard calls him, and it’s only in that moment that he acknowledges their presence. He seems fine to Grace, she doesn’t get why Martin would’ve said he wasn’t <em> fully himself. </em></p><p>Welsh pulls himself up and reaches her and Richard, who’s trying to give him the eye but honestly her friend isn’t able to even pretend to be cross with someone. As soon as he gets closer to Grace, she smells alcohol. However, he doesn’t seem drunk, just a little buzzed, and Grace doesn’t blame him one bit.</p><p>“S-2 said the Germans only left a company to defend Carentan. The rest pulled out sometime last night,” Richard breaks off to them, somewhat worried. </p><p>So that's why they didn't encounter much resistance when they assaulted the town yesterday. Grace remembers how ghostly empty it looked when she entered Carentan, right before meeting Guarnere and the wounded soldier.</p><p>“I knew that town was too easy,” Welsh comments, and yes, that’s what she told him earlier. </p><p>“Yeah,” Richard agrees and then they start walking again. “They regrouped south of town. May have been on the way to a counterattack when we ran into them here. Strength unknown. They want the town back. And we’re in their way.”</p><p>“We should attack first,” Grace interrupts them; she’s thinking back to a similar situation she had found herself in Poland a few years ago, during a mission on behalf of the French Resistance. Plus, her inner captain’s spirit couldn't help but speak up for her. “We wait, we die. If they want Carentan back I’m pretty sure they’ll do anything in their power to get it, I wouldn’t be surprised if they have panzers ready just around the corner. They don’t think we’re smart enough to attack first, so this way we could take them by surprise and actually get a chance.”</p><p>Richard nods, and Grace notices he’s trying to hide the surprise. “That’s actually the plan. If they don’t come before then, we’re attacking at first light, 0530.”</p><p>They keep on walking, Grace doesn’t know what the destination is, but she’s grateful to postpone another hour in that hole even if only by a few minutes.</p><p>“I’ll tell the men to fix bayonets,” Harry agrees, a shade of worryi in his tone. Then his gaze fixes on her. “Men <em> and </em>woman. You’d better fix your bayonet, H.”</p><p>Grace looks heavenward. “I’m not deaf, I heard you...H.”</p><p>Welsh scoffs, his eyes moving on Richard’s leg. “Not much of a limp.”</p><p>Richard is hobbling badly, and each step is more painful but he doesn't show it. “I’ll survive,” he just says.</p><p>“How is it?” Welsh asks.</p><p>Richard thinks about it for a moment, trying to find an adequate answer for a stupid question. “Hurts.”</p><p>“War is hell.”</p><p>That said, Welsh walks away quietly, leaving Grace and Richard alone again.</p><p>She blinks at his figure fading into the darkness, her eyes not diverting even as she continues to speak to Richard.</p><p>“What a character.”</p><p>Richard sighs. “Him and Lewis are becoming way too close.”</p><p>“Pft, are you jealous?” Grace jokes, even if she understands what her friend meant. “You know what? Sometimes I wish I was this Kitty girl.”</p><p>Richard almost chokes on air, Grace finds him staring at her with his eyes wide and a lopsided grin on his face. She can’t help but laugh at his surprised face, and she’s about to say something when they suddenly hear a heartrending moan coming not far from them. Grace frowns at Richard, hands immediately steady on the rifle. He too has a firm grip on his weapon and they’re starting to advance in the dark, when a soldier appears in front of them for the second time that night.</p><p>“Sir!” Skinny Sisk breaths out, ignoring Grace’s M1 Garand almost up his nostrils. “It’s Talbert, sir. It… it was an accident.”</p><p>Grace lowers down her weapon, giving Richard a worried look.</p><p>“Go back to your foxhole, Gracie,” he reassures her.</p><p>“You sure you don’t need a hand?”</p><p>“No, I got this. Go have some sleep, tomorrow is gonna be a long day.”</p><p>Then he’s gone beyond the trees, leaving Grace to hope that tomorrow won’t be as long as he just predicted.</p><p>
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</p><p>A bullet pierces through air at the speed of light, missing Grace's ear by a few millimeters. </p><p>“Shit,” she mouths to herself. That was the fifth time that morning that her head has almost been blown off by a gunshot. </p><p>As expected, the 506th attacked the Germans at first light; Grace isn’t sure about the time, but she’s convinced that they’ve been fighting for at least two hours by now. The German counterattack was obviously aimed at regaining control of Carentan so the Americans were pushed back to less than five hundred yards from the outskirts of the town. </p><p>Grace has never fired as many shots in her life as in the last few hours. She withdraws the rifle to reload it and leans her back against the mound of dirt behind which she is sheltering; next to her, Liebgott is shooting savagely, almost as if he were hypnotised by the sound of his own gun. Welsh is lying on his stomach, the binoculars held up to his eyes. In a nearby hole, Perconte and Luz are also shooting at the enemies.</p><p>Grace hears Richard's voice above all that din: still hobbling, pacing up and down urging his men to battle, shouting orders that she can barely understand due to the loud noise of the mortars.</p><p>“Watch for silhouettes on the horizon! Find your target! Muzzle fire! Nail it!” he’s shouting as he passes by Grace, his look resting on her for some time longer and then he’s off again. “I want fire superiority! Guarnere, keep them pinned down! Keep firing!”</p><p>Grace looks in Guarnere’s direction, a few holes away from hers: he goes to the machine gunners and shouts orders at them, but Grace can’t pick up what he’s saying. For a moment he looks at Grace, before returning to his men.</p><p>In the meantime she reloaded her gun, but she doesn’t fire: she feels like she has a carousel in her chest, her breath goes up and down non-stop and her adrenaline is sky high. She takes a moment to empty her mind, closing her eyes and trying to breathe calmly.</p><p>“<em> I’m so afraid that the plans we made underneath those moonlit skies </em> ,” Grace sings to herself, her voice barely hearable. “ <em> Will fade away and you're bound to stray if the stars get in your eyes. </em>”</p><p>She thinks of Muck and Malarkey who seem to be so far away. Who knows if Muck is thinking about Don’t Sit Under The Apple Tree too: of course not, he’s not a nut like Grace. But music keeps her going, even in the most inconceivable situations, so couldn’t this also work for other people?</p><p>“<em> So, don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me, you’re my love </em>.”</p><p>“Are you singing?” </p><p>Grace opens her eyes, finding Liebgott staring at her, concerned. So, apparently her voice wasn’t as quiet as she thought.</p><p>“It helps me relax my nerves,” she explains, going back in position.</p><p>Liebgott nods, his mouth curving downwards. “I might try that sometime.”</p><p>Grace smirks, then points her rifle and starts firing. Not even one minute in and she hears Welsh’s shout.</p><p>“Where the hell did they come from?”</p><p>She follows his gaze and curses under her breath as she watches as a whole regiment of Panzers advances towards them.</p><p>“Holy shit fuck,” she comments.</p><p>American soldiers are pulling back from God knows where, and they are running randomly towards them. One of them almost reached cover, when he gets hit. Grace's heart beats frantically, but she doesn't think twice before letting go of the rifle and running towards the soldier - he's been shot in the leg, so he's trying to crawl towards them but apparently can't manage to do it alone. Defying the hail of bullets, Grace reaches the soldier and makes him stand up. With a cry of pain, he manages to bring himself on his feet and then he falls onto the ground once again. </p><p>“Fuck, H, get back immediately!”</p><p>“Come on, buddy, you’ll get us killed!” Grace shouts above the noise, encouraging him to get up. He does eventually, Grace puts an arm around his waist and helps him walk until they miraculously reach the others. “Well done, mate, well done. You made it.”</p><p>Liebgott helps Grace to position the man, while they call for a medic. She doesn't waste a second and immediately goes to position herself next to Welsh, who's still staring at an unspecified point with the binoculars. The moment Grace settles down, she hears him swear.</p><p>“Holy shit! There goes our left flank!”</p><p>She follows his gaze and soon realises: they’re fucked. Dog and Fox Companies are pulling back, so that leaves Easy Company having to anchor its right flank against a railroad dike and hold its position. </p><p>“Let’s go McGrath! On me! Shift your fire right!” Welsh shouts while standing up, gesturing to McGrath to follow him, who’s not looking so inclined to fulfill the Lieutenant's request.</p><p>Grace watches the two men run to the open field, McGrath carrying on the mortar; they set in place, and she hopes with all her strength that’s not the last time she looks at her friend. After a couple of failed attempts, the two finally manage to shoot down a tank and return to their place as Richard yells “covering fire! Covering fire!” Grace’s gaze follows Welsh’s movements as he settles himself again next to her.</p><p>“You did some brave shit out there,” she declares, unable to take her eyes off him and feeling a sense of absolute relief climbing into her stomach. </p><p>He gives her a small smile. “I guess both of us have been quite brave today.”</p><p>The battle goes on for a while longer. Grace begins to feel her muscles twitch from the fatigue of staying in that position for so long and, as if that weren't enough, her calf is cramping. She tries to ignore it all, focusing on her aim and taking down as many Germans gunners as possible. Her flawless aiming has shot down thirteen soldiers in the last five minutes: she can’t help but keep count.</p><p>All of a sudden a big explosion echoes in the air and she’s surprised to see it doesn’t come from their fighting side but from the enemy’s: the most beautiful sight catches Grace's eyes as she watches the British Sherman tanks taking on the field. Her eyes flicker with joy as she watches the Germans running away.</p><p>It’s over.</p><p>“Run, you sorry asses!” she hears Perconte screaming in joy.</p><p>“Oh, you beautiful babies, you!” Welsh exclaims excited, and Grace can’t help but escape a sigh of relief. All the Germans are pulling back, but she doesn’t care, she keeps shooting at them nevertheless. The more she takes down, the better.</p><p>“Lets go! Pour it on them! Let them have it! Come on!” Richard’s voice resonates through the air.</p><p>Grace rolls on her back, closing her eyes and taking a moment to herself. The alleviation of being able to beat back the enemy runs through her blood, and to think that just a moment before she was thinking about a stupid leg cramp…</p><p>“You know what?” Welsh asks, his tone so low and tired that Grace can hardly hear it.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>It takes a few moments for him to answer.</p><p>“I might need a couple of drinks.”</p><p>Grace huffs out a laugh. Yeah, she could use some medicine too.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fun fact: </p><p>- I chose June 18th for Grace's birthday because it's my mum's birthday :)<br/>- "... that time when she rode a bicycle for more than 500 miles through several German checkpoints, just to replace codes that her wireless operator was forced to destroy during a raid" this is a TRUE fact! Wiki says: <i>During the flight from the Germans, Rake, the radio operator, had left his radio and codes behind and the SOE team needed to be in contact with London. The nearest SOE radio and operator were in Chateauroux, Wake said she borrowed a bicycle and rode it to Chateauroux, found a radio near there, updated London on the situation, and then bicycled back to Saint-Santin, traveling 500 kilometres (310 mi) in 72 hours. Fortunately for her, there were few Germans in the areas through which she bicycled.</i></p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much my bean Angie for helping me out with this one, I love you so much! ♥ each vote and comment is appreciated and help this story going!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The water pours down, dripping on Grace's skin as her mind fades into blankness and everything is a foggy illusion. The sensation of the steamy water calms her a little, as if it takes her mind off things. All the things she's been through in the past month, all the things she's done. It's probably the water, playing tricks. Her eyes fall closed over and over, each time showing her the images like photographs... Her mind swirls, and it's like she's standing under an everlasting waterfall. </p><p>She bathes her skin lightly, taking care not to touch the bruises scattered all over her body; there are quite a few, so it’s difficult not to jump at each touch. It’s been almost two weeks since Carentan, but she feels like it was yesterday, her body is having a hard time getting the fatigue of the battle.</p><p>Grace’s mind wanders a few days ago, when she was scrunched up behind a bush, assisting while Doc Roe was trying to fix Blithe after he was being hit by a sniper near a farmhouse during a patrol. Blithe was still lucky to be alive: he was taken to a hospital, he will be given a Purple Heart and then he will go home. Maybe it will take a while longer for the latter, but he will never return to the front.</p><p>Grace turns the old metallic dial, and the water stops.</p><p>It’s the first time in almost a month that she gets a shower. She remembers that day back at the farmhouse; after watching Blithe being treated, Richard came to them, telling them they were finally being moved off the front line to a camp near Utah Beach. At the words ‘hot food and showers’, Grace couldn’t help a loud sigh of relief.</p><p>She takes a towel that someone handed to her earlier and wraps her stiff body in it. Grace had waited until every man of Easy Company had taken a shower, before stepping in herself. She dares to look at her breast, cringing at all of the bruises: that spreading purple with yellow blotches is almost bizarre on her ghostly skin. She doesn’t want to know what her face must look like.</p><p>Grace dries herself with slow movements, it almost doesn't seem real to her that she can finally do that. The feeling of dirt and tiredness isn't easy to remove with just a single shower, but she can't deny that she feels much better now.</p><p>She puts on a clean uniform and then exits the cabin, finally ready to face the world with a new spirit. Grace laughs to herself thinking that at least now she doesn’t <em> stink eight out of ten </em>anymore, like Luz pointed out once.</p><p>After wandering for ten minutes, saluting the men here and there, Grace finds Richard and Welsh both sat on the ground, talking. It feels like ages since the last time she had spoken to them, so she decides to join the duo.</p><p>As she gets closer, she can hear a snippet of their conversation.</p><p>“Talked to Colonel Sink,” Richard is saying, eating a K-ration. “Said he appreciated Easy holding the line. Said General Taylor was pleased.”</p><p>Welsh is leaning against a wall, his eyes closed, a cigarette hanging from his lips.</p><p>“That’s why I came to France,” he says ironically, his voice low, “to please General Taylor.”</p><p>Richard realises Grace’s presence and gives her a small smile as she drops herself next to Welsh.</p><p>“Oh, Wonder Woman’s here,” he comments with an eye half open, making Grace cackle. “All cleaned up and ready to go home.”</p><p>That’s right, Grace is going home. They’re all going home, and she doesn’t know how she feels about that. She tells herself she’s crazy only for thinking that, but she can’t help it. Truth is, in the last month spent together, Grace grew fond of Easy Company as they were her family; she can’t think about not having Richard around anymore, or Muck, or Malarkey, or Luz. Or Welsh. Or anyone, really. </p><p>Grace has had a taste of what her life would have been like if the British military accepted her, and she's not ready to give it up just yet. Maybe she's crazy, but she feels this is her true purpose. </p><p>“Are you ready to go home?” Richard asks her.</p><p>Grace sighs. “I don’t know, I guess?”</p><p>Welsh shifts a little next to her, fixing himself up and finally lighting that cigarette. </p><p>“I will never admit it out loud, but I’ll miss you, H.”</p><p>“You just said that out loud, Harry.”</p><p>“Oh, shit,” Welsh jokes, laughing at her. </p><p>Grace steals his cigarette and takes drag, then returns it to him. “Gotta miss the oddest Lieutenant ever.”</p><p>Welsh bursts into a loud harsh cackle of laughter.</p><p>She can’t help but look up at Richard: a muscle twitches involuntarily at the corner of his right eye, his mouth forming a weird grimace as he returns her stare. It’s the second time he gives her that look: the first time happened in France on their second day together, when she was about to reach SOE through the code radio. It’s that look that reads <em> will I ever see you again? </em></p><p>Grace isn’t sure about that, but she’s certain she’s going to miss him like air.</p><p>Again.</p><p>
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</p><p>The journey to England is filled with happy voices and it’s way too short for Grace's liking. She's torn about this feeling, because although she can't wait to leave French soil, she's not very happy about having to say goodbye to the men. </p><p>She spends as much time as possible with the men of Easy, savouring each moment and trying to take a mental picture of all of them to remember their faces forever. Grace can’t help but notice how much their behaviour towards her had changed in the past few weeks: she had always felt welcomed, even at the beginning. It's true that some of the men - if not the majority - were reluctant to have her there, but after proving her battle skills and bravery and her handling the worst of conditions, Grace feels truly respected, as a woman and as a soldier.</p><p>And now they treat her as if she’s one of their own: they salute her, and they don’t think twice before including her in anything at all.</p><p>Even Guarnere sees her in a different way, especially from when she saved his life back in Carentan.</p><p>Grace drags the cigarette to her mouth, inhaling the smoke: she doesn't even like smoking that much. Yes, it helps her to loosen up a little but it doesn't give her any real satisfaction. Especially because her mouth always gets so dry, and it tastes lousy.</p><p>“You okay?” she hears Malarkey’s voice and she turns to him. He’s laying on his belly, reading a letter and in that moment he looks like a child, which makes Grace smile softly.</p><p>“I am,” Grace nods, now looking away. “This looks so surreal.”</p><p>“Right?” he agrees excitedly, his eyes on the letter again as he continues. “It seems a lifetime ago that we had the Germans shooting at us as we were landing on enemy soil. We're truly the craziest people I know. How come we're still alive?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Who knows how it’ll be from now on, though.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Grace repeats, then tries to focus elsewhere. “What are you reading? Is she cute?”</p><p>Malarkey smiles shyly. “It’s mum’s letter,” he says, making Grace soft with his gentle tone. “Her name’s Helen. What’s your mum’s name?”</p><p>For just a brief moment, Grace thinks she had forgotten her mother’s name. As a matter of fact, she hasn’t seen her mother nor her father in literally years, she barely remembers their features.</p><p>“Amelia.”</p><p>“It’s a nice name.”</p><p>“It is, unlike her personality.”</p><p>After that, Malarkey just nods sadly and doesn’t ask her any more questions. Grace finds herself thinking that she wouldn’t mind telling Malarkey her story: she already has told some of them a little bit about her life before war, without going into details. Grace didn’t trust them back then, but she does now.</p><p>She stays quiet, eventually, just enjoying his comforting presence with no exchange of words needed. Her thoughts go back to her parents a little more: who knows if they’re still alive. Her mum stopped writing in 1942; Grace never answered any of her letters, so she just gave up. The worst thing is that Grace doesn’t feel any guilt at all, and now she doesn’t feel a thing thinking that her parents might be dead and no one bothered to tell her. After all, she has always been by herself her whole life. </p><p>Grace leans against a seatback. A few feet from her, Luz is playing cards with Grant and Shifty; he looks so happy, all of them look so happy to finally be able to get home safe. As a matter of fact, England isn’t home, but they don’t mind calling it home until the war is over. </p><p>She gets lost in her thoughts and doesn’t realise immediately that Luz is now returning her gaze. His look is a mixture of happiness and regret, and it's all directed at her. She tries a smile, earning one back. </p><p>In that moment Grace feels a shudder in her stomach that has nothing to do with the sea sickness.</p><p>
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</p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p>
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</p><p>When Grace sets foot on British soil, she sighs: she’s home.</p><p>With her head still a little woozy from the turmoil of thoughts she's been having since they departed from France, it takes her a few moments to realise that the Head of SOE, Major General Colin Gubbins, is staring at her from a distance. </p><p>Grace blinks a couple of times, maybe the infinite hours spent on the ship are playing some weird tricks; she takes a few steps forward, ignoring a hand that tries to grab her by the arm.</p><p>She comes to the conclusion that that man is in fact the Major General, but what he’s doing there, Grace doesn’t know. She’s seen the man in person three times since she joined the Special Operations Executive and each time has been a bad omen. </p><p>As she gets closer, her gaze moves to the two men at his side: one is quite short and middle aged, with huge red glasses set on his nose that makes him look like a cartoon. Grace has never seen him before. The other one he’s very tall, with an unmistakable grin on his face and the beret slightly bent on the left. </p><p>It’s Henri Tardivat.</p><p>Grace feels a sensation of overwhelming relief to see that her partner is safe and sound, staring at her with a toothy smile; until a moment ago, she had no idea if he had made it back to England. Grace would never admit it, but she was really worried about her partner's fate.</p><p>“Miss Whitehead, what a pleasure it is to finally welcome you back home,” General Gubbins starts, giving Grace the salute. She returns it, before moving her eyes again to Henri: he looks tired, a bit skinnier than how she remembers, but overall he seems fine. </p><p>“Henri,” Grace’s eyes glisten a little.</p><p>He keeps smiling, nodding in assent. “I’m pleased you started using my name once again, Grace,” he opens his arms as an invitation. </p><p>Grace rolls her eyes, but gives in eventually and throws herself at Henri. The hug lasts just a couple of seconds, but it makes her feel properly at home.</p><p>“Miss Whitehead,” Gubbins says again, “I’m sorry for all you’ve been through this past month, I’m sure you have a lot of questions. We’ve got ourselves a safe place for us to talk about some important details of your future at SOE.”</p><p>Grace can’t help but find those words not comforting at all. Details of her future at SOE? What does that even mean? If he himself is there, it means that her future at SOE is not certain as she thought it would be.</p><p>“I’m ready to listen,” Grace tells him, even though she’s not ready at all.</p><p>General Gubbins nods, beckoning her to follow him. Grace starts walking but then turns her head; she catches the sight of Richard talking to Nixon not far from them, and she wishes that he could follow her wherever they were going, but he gives no sign of noticing her as he continues to talk to his friend. Next to them stand Guarnere, Randleman, Martin and Roe, engaged in an obviously funny conversation: Guarnere seems to feel the weight of Grace's gaze on him, because he immediately moves his on her. He looks suspicious, surely he’s wondering who the man with big mustaches is ahead of her.</p><p>Grace nods at him, as if letting him know everything is fine, and keeps following the little procession. Henri is walking at her right side, and he’s strangely quiet. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that something is wrong.</p><p>They reach a truck and the man with the big glasses gestures to them to go inside. </p><p>“So,” General Gubbins begins when all four of them are settled inside the truck, “how was your stay with the Airborne?”</p><p>Grace locks eyes with Henri, then gives a quick glance to the unknown man before answering the General with a firm voice. “It was… challenging. But overall good.”</p><p>“I’m glad to hear that,” Gubbins says, intertwining his hands together. “Did you get hurt?”</p><p>“No. An explosion threw me off my feet once, but other than that nothing bad happened to me. I managed.”</p><p>“That’s good,” he replies. </p><p>Grace feels somewhat uncomfortable, having her boss' paternal eyes on her as if he were talking to his own daughter; Henri is staring at her as if expecting her to burst at any moment.</p><p>“Who are you?” Grace asks the short man. </p><p>“My name’s Bert Dillon, I’m a strategist,” the man says, giving Grace a slight bow with the head. </p><p>“A strategist?”</p><p>“Mr Dillon,” interrupts them Gubbins, “is responsible for Operation Freelance, back in June.”</p><p>So, Mr Dillon is the one to thank for faking Grace’s death.</p><p>“It wasn’t easy, but the Germans seem to have bought your death pretty well,” Mr Dillon explains, not hiding a hint of pride for himself.</p><p>“So, how did I die then?” Grace asks because she’s truly curious.</p><p>“A bombing,” Mr Dillon declares. “Apparently you were having dinner with a couple of friends, when the Germans bombed London early in June. It was all over the papers that the <em> White Mouse </em> was finally killed. Oh, they were happy, Miss Whitehead!”</p><p>Grace smirks, the image of Heinrich Himmler cheering at her death now plastered in her mind.</p><p>“What about the body? They’re not stupid, how come they believed you right away?”</p><p>“Oh,” Mr Dillon grins and it’s clear he couldn’t wait to be asked about it. “This might sound a little grotesque to you, but I have a coroner friend. There were a lot of casualties during that time due to the continuous bombing, and he owed me a favor, anyway. Among the victims of the last bombing before the one that killed you, there was a girl who looked a lot like you: we just had to, ahem, <em> adjust </em> her nose a little, but it was like looking at you at the end. We used her as proof, peace to her soul.”</p><p>Grace doesn’t know how to feel about that, but after all the girl was already dead, wasn’t she? She finds herself lightly touching her nose.</p><p>“Genius,” Henri comments.</p><p>“Yeah,” she agrees, but she refrains from commenting on anything else. “So, why has the Head of SOE come to greet me along with a strategist and the captain of the French Resistance?”</p><p>Silence lays on their skin like a poison, the only thing Grace can hear is the sound of her heart. It lasts only a handful of seconds, but to Grace it feels like a lifetime. Grace can't help but wonder if her Easy Company mates are waiting for her or if they've already left the harbour. She immediately realises she's being a fool; she was no longer part of Easy Company, of course they would be gone already.</p><p>“Alright, let’s get to the point, Miss Whitehead,” Gubbins begins, his tone now grave. “The good thing is that Operation Freelance was a success, the Germans have been aware of your death for the past month. You've also been good at your cover, no one had any suspicion that the most wanted spy was hiding in the US military. But… this also means that you can’t stay here any longer.”</p><p>“What do you mean, sir?”</p><p>General Gubbins pulls out a few papers from his pocket and hands them to Grace. “I mean that you need to go back to the States.”</p><p>Grace frowns at the papers. She doesn’t understand where this is going.</p><p>“If you think that I’ll accept that and run away, you don’t know me at all, General,” Grace blurts out, crossing her arms and moving her gaze to Henri. Perhaps that’s the motive for him to be there, to try and convince her to escape. If he really thinks for one second that Grace will accept that, then he doesn’t know her either.</p><p>“It’s temporary,” continues Gubbins, his arms still stretched towards her. “If someone, <em> anyone, </em>happens to see you, it’s all been pointless. You must not be seen. So, that said, either you take these papers and go back home, or you’ll work behind a desk until the rest of the war.”</p><p>General Gubbins’ fatherly tone was now gone, and Grace took it as a threat.</p><p>“I won’t be working behind a desk, General, I might as well knock at Hitler’s door and ask him to have me hanged already.”</p><p>“Grace,” Henri intervenes gently, resting a hand on Grace’s knee, “my uncle has a farm in Wyoming, he would be so happy to have you help him out for some time.”</p><p>“<em> What? </em>” Grace almost shouts, letting out a hysterical laughter. “I’ve been killing people since I was fucking seventeen and now you want me to go milk cows? Are you out of your mind?”</p><p>Mr Dillon is watching his feet as if he doesn’t want to be part of that conversation anymore, and Grace can sympathise. Henri keeps staring at her with worried eyes, when he knows quite well that Grace is the last person he needs to worry about. Gubbins pierces his gaze through her, as if he thinks that the more he stares at her, the more she’s willing to accept that ridiculous offer. </p><p>Until Grace can't stand the silence anymore.</p><p>“Listen to me, sir, I devoted my life to SOE for the past four years. I’ve done things I’d never thought I’d do. I killed, I fucked strangers, I pretended, I lied, I lost friends and people I loved, I risked my life <em> everyday </em>for you and for the cause. I learnt how to throw myself out of planes just to deliver intelligence and sabotage Krauts devices. I did all you asked me to do for years. If there’s one thing I won’t do for you or for anyone else for anything in the world, is give up. No, I’m sorry, I won’t either hide behind a mahogany desk nor fly away from war.”</p><p>Grace can’t help but wonder how much time has passed since they’ve been in that truck. All she knows is that the air is growing thicker and she feels like she’s suffocating. She remembers when she was told she couldn’t go home with Henri, that she had to stay with the Airborne until further notice. </p><p>Back then, she was forced into war. Right now, she’s being forced out of it.</p><p>“What do you have in mind?” General Gubbins breaks the silence. </p><p>“I’m sorry?” Grace asks. She had noticed him staring at her carefully during her little internal debate.</p><p>“If you don’t want to go back to the States and don’t want to hide here, what do you want to do?”</p><p>Bull Randleman’s words from ages ago hit Grace like lightning. He was telling her about the brave and at the same time stupid decision of mutiny against their captain, rather than follow him into war. <em> The choices were either being put against a wall and shot or being killed under Sobel’s lead on D-Day, </em>he had said to her while they were waiting for hell on earth that day in France. And Grace feels that, now, she finally understands: for her, the choices were either go mental behind a desk, or run away from all of this, throwing away all of the things she achieved during these past few years and therefore spend a life milking cows at Henri’s uncle’s farm. So, she feels like choosing the most reckless and foolish thing, just like the non commissioned officers of Easy Company did once.</p><p>“I wanna stay in the Airborne.”</p><p>“<em> Are you nuts?” </em> Henri screams, General Gubbins elbowing him in the stomach without remorse. “Grace, are you really refusing not one, but two chances of staying alive, to go to war <em> again </em>? Haven’t you suffered enough yet? What would Henri say?”</p><p>“Don’t play this card with me, Henri Tardivat,” she points a finger between his eyes. “I know exactly what my husband would say. And you’re not him, so don’t.”</p><p>“Grace, <em> please,” </em>Henri pleads and Grace has never seen him like this. “No one will ever think badly of you if you’d choose to leave. Also because mostly all of the people you know are convinced that you’re dead. Please, think about it.”</p><p>“Henri, I honestly thought better of you.”</p><p>“Don’t do that.”</p><p>“Do what? After all we’ve been through together, after all the things you’ve seen me doing, you seriously think that I’d waste any chance to go get some SS asses? I’m not afraid of people thinking badly of me, I’m afraid that you don’t think enough of me to believe that I’d even consider running away.”</p><p>Grace takes a breath. She can’t believe she’s having this conversation with him, she thought he trusted her. She feels so frustrated she’s having a major headache right in this very moment. She buries her head in her hands, pressuring on her temples as the pain is unbearable.</p><p>“I’ll talk to General Taylor.”</p><p>Grace lifts her head so fast she hears her neck crack. Gubbins’ eyes look so deeply into her own, as if he’s trying to look through her.</p><p>“What?” Grace asks, her voice hoarse.</p><p>“I said I’ll talk to General Taylor, but I can’t promise you anything, Whitehead.”</p><p>“Oh my god, are you for real?”</p><p>“Listen, kid,” he starts again, this time his tone a little more indulgent. “I'm telling you bluntly, you are one of the best agents I have ever had the pleasure of working with. Your life is yours, and if you want to continue risking it for your country, go ahead, I'm no one to stop you. I admit I'll miss you on my team, but I'm sure the Airborne - <em> if </em> they ever accept you - will have earned a big shot.”</p><p>Grace can’t believe her ears, nor can Henri but clearly for a different reason. </p><p>They finally exit the truck, the heat annoyingly tingles Grace's skin, but it's still better than the stale air that was inside. As she breathes fresh air, she notices that there aren’t any familiar faces left.</p><p>With a knot in her stomach, Grace turns to Henri: he’s still in denial, but he understands what and why she’s feeling like this.</p><p>“You gather your things and you’re going to be escorted to a safe house for the night,” the General says. Behind his tall and imposing figure, Grace knows that lies a good soul and concern for her. “You’ll be hearing from my people tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Grace nods, trying to hide her enthusiasm a little. She dares to look at Henri, who just bows his head in respect; she knows this isn’t the last time they’re going to see each other, at least this time she <em> knows </em>. </p><p>“Whitehead,” the General calls her, fixing his stinging gaze on her once again. “Good luck, my child.”</p><p>That night Grace’s sleep is disturbed. </p><p>Perhaps it's because she hasn't slept in a real bed in too long, or because her confused thoughts were engaged in a messy carousel, but she barely manages to close her eyelids for a couple of hours.</p><p>
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</p><p>“Excuse me! Excuse me!”</p><p>Grace glides through people like an eel, ignoring their annoyed looks and loud protests. The moment the driver dropped her off at the camp, she immediately started running; she doesn't even know where she’s headed, but she’s sure she would know once she runs into it.</p><p>Her heavy clothes are making her very hot, as is the big hat hiding her hair, but it’s necessary so as not to let it escape more than it should. Well, now that she’s safe at the base, Grace thinks that after all she doesn’t need that horrible hat anymore, so she just throws it away in a bin.</p><p>“Oi, Grace!” she hears someone calling, and she spots Hoobler coming happily towards her. “What are you doing here, I thought⧿”</p><p>“Hoob, have you seen Captain Winters?” she interrupts him without preamble.</p><p>He shakes his head, shrugging. “No, but the officers should be in that barrack. Are you okay?”</p><p>“I am, Hoob. I’m okay.”</p><p>Grace salutes him and gives him a big smile, before she starts running again. She reaches the barrack that Hoobler had pointed out to her, and watches through the window to see if there were in fact officers in there before making a fool of herself. On the other side of the small room there was Nixon, reading a piece of paper; next to him, Major Strayer is sitting at a desk, writing. Finally, not far from the window, Richard and Colonel Sink are engaged in deep conversation.</p><p>Grace takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.</p><p>When she opens it, she finds all their eyes on her, all reading different expressions. Nixon is the first to give her a big smile, winking before returning to his piece of paper. Strayer gives her a quick glance, his eyes surveying on her face before returning to his writing. Richard smiles faintly at her, shaking his head as 'what should I do with you?' as Colonel Sink gestures for her to come closer.</p><p>“Miss Whitehead, come,” he says, motioning to her to the nearest chair. Grace sits, as does Sink. “So, I had a briefing with General Taylor and General Gubbins last night, we talked about some interesting things concerning you.”</p><p>Grace lets a light snort escape and her mouth can’t help but curve into a funny grimace.</p><p>“We don’t need agents, we do have a good team of intelligence already,” Sink starts, looking down at his hands. “We suffered quite a few losses during the Normandy campaign, replacements are coming to England in a few days, we need to get back to full strength before engaging in other operations. We need men, as many as we can get. That being said, with some pushing, we convinced our General to keep you as a member of Easy Company. General Gubbins vouches for you, and honestly after what I’ve seen in Normandy and after what officers told me, I don’t see a point in not taking advantage of a soldier like you. In normal circumstances I must admit it wouldn’t have been that easy, but given the situation, with us in need for some help and you in need for cover, we settled for it.” Grace can feel the blood pumping through her veins in a frenzy. “Mind you, it won’t be easy. Later today you’ll have a medical check, just a normal procedure. You’ll be training with the replacements. I know you’ve already accumulated a wealth of experience during your years with the Special Operations Executive, and you’ve got your own jump wings, but you need our preparation as well.”</p><p>“Sure, sir,” Grace almost can’t contain herself.</p><p>“Speaking of,” Sink continues, taking a piece of paper from the desk, “from now on you’re Corporal Grace Whitehead. I know you’re a captain in your own field, but this is the best I could do for you. You’re one of us, now, so you'll be getting medals when needed, as well as Purple Hearts if wounded. From now on you’ll be treated like any other soldier in this camp, is that clear? That said, I officially welcome you to the Airborne, Miss Whitehead.”</p><p>
  <em> I officially welcome you to the Airborne, Miss Whitehead. </em>
</p><p>More beautiful words had never been addressed to her.</p><p>“Sir, I don’t know how to thank you, sir. For everything, for trusting me.”</p><p>“I just have one thing to ask,” Colonel Sink frowns at her. “Why? Why would such a young woman risk her life for this?”</p><p>“Do you ask this question to every young enlisted man?”</p><p>The corner of his mouth turns up, forming a small smile. “Touché! I’m just curious.”</p><p>“My father is the reason why I choose this life,” Grace starts to explain, her right eye flickering, quickly glancing at Richard. “He wanted a son, a soldier, but he had me instead. I don’t feel a thing for him, for how he treated me all my life, but I’m telling you, sir, I’m gonna try and stay alive for him. Because when this is all over, I’ll be going to my parents, I’ll be showing them my war-worn but <em> alive </em>face, and they’ll have to admit that they were wrong all along. This is why I’m doing it. That, and also I hate Hitler with every fiber of my being.”</p><p>Ten minutes later, after signing the papers, Grace exits the barrack. </p><p>She’s now Corporal Grace Whitehead, of 1st Platoon, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment and she can’t believe it. What would her husband say? He would be proud of her finally achieving her dream, finally content with her life. Grace is aware it won't be a stroll in the park, she has already had a taste of what awaits her from now on. It was a bittersweet taste, but she liked it. The adrenaline that she feels flowing in her veins during a battle is something she's never experienced before, not even during the most dangerous missions while being in Churchill’s Secret Army. Everyone always thought she was crazy wanting to feel that thrill, but she always thought she was crazy only if she agreed to spend a lifetime behind a desk. Or painting, or knitting. Or do anything else other than get involved in the cause.</p><p>The air is hot like it was fresh out of a bread oven, kissing Grace's face with its fiery breath. The burnt smell, and gasoline, and freshly cooked meals attack her nostrils all together, but she doesn't care one single bit.</p><p>A hand brushes her shoulder gently, making her turn.</p><p>“I knew you couldn’t stay away from us for more than a day,” Welsh says, offering his hand to shake. “Welcome aboard, Grace, I mean it.”</p><p>“Thank you, Harry,” Grace answers, moved by the sincerity in Welsh’ eyes and voice. “Maybe you don't notice behind my iron armour, but it means so much to me to be accepted.”</p><p>Welsh smiles, patting on her shoulder.</p><p>That same evening, Grace is in the mess hall surrounded by the men of Easy Company. News of her enlistment has now made its way around the camp, and she’s so happy that they have welcomed her a second time. She's sitting between Liebgott and Martin, laughing at something Randleman had just said. At some point during the evening, someone pulled a couple of bottles of something strong out from under the table, Grace doesn't know what it is because she has only ever drank beer and whiskey, but she likes it. </p><p>Grace has no doubts that she’ll quickly get used to that routine.</p><p>She feels a glass hitting gently her shoulder, and she turns to face Luz, sitting at the table behind her.</p><p>Luz raises his full glass. “To you.”</p><p>Grace carefully bumps his glass with her own, and then raises it on the air. “To us.”</p><p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Beautiful Things Don't Last Long</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hiii! As always thank you Angie (hellitwasyoufirstsergeant) for helping me out with this one, I truly don't know what I'd do without you! Ily  ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>It's been over a month since Grace joined the American Paratroopers, but it seems like yesterday she was training with the replacements. At first they were very reluctant at the idea of working with her, and Grace honestly doesn't feel like blaming them. They will change their minds sooner rather than later, when in combat she will have the opportunity to prove to them that she's as much of a soldier as they are.</p><p>Back in July, with the replacements also came promotions. Welsh had been promoted to First Lieutenant and therefore he was going to work as Richard's executive officer. Because of that, a new officer was assigned to 1st Platoon, Lieutenant Peacock, with Talbert as platoon sergeant. To Grace's admiration, both Muck and Malarkey had been promoted to Sergeant along with Randleman.</p><p>With her shirt tucked in her trousers, and her hair in a short ponytail, she sets off to join her comrades for lunch. She enters the big tent where they usually have meals, when she immediately spots a muddle of limbs gesticulating in her direction. It's Muck and Luz, waving at her to go to their table; Grace approaches them and drops herself heavily onto the free spot next to Guarnere.</p><p>"You're just in time, kid," says Guarnere, offering her a slice of bread, which she accepts enthusiastically; she's starving.</p><p>"In time for what?" she asks.</p><p>"Smokey's poetry," Muck replies, biting into a piece of chicken. "He hasn't stopped babbling about it since this morning."</p><p>Grace snorts, then her gaze moves to the table next to theirs; her eyes meet Talbert's, who winks at her before going back to his conversation with Liebgott. Talbert had just rejoined Easy Company, after being accidentally bayoneted by one of his friends that night in Carentan. It was an accident, he was dressed in that Kraut poncho that he was bragging about just the day before, and Smith had indeed mistaken him for the enemy. Grace still remembers his screaming, she was walking with Richard at the time. Along with Talbert, Lipton had also made his comeback. He's now sitting all alone, scanning the room with a tired but proud look. He too had been wounded in Carentan, she remembers that very well; the image of Lipton being thrown into the air by a mortar shell still fresh in her mind. He recovered quite well, just a scar left on his cheek.</p><p>"Hey, Hoobler," calls Muck, startling Grace from her thoughts, gesturing for him to shut up. "Be quiet for he man."</p><p>In that moment Grace turns to Gordon, who's standing not far from their table, a crutch helping him to stand up. Three Purple Hearts are fixed on his jacket, each of them equates a wound.</p><p>
  <em>"The Night of The Bayonet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The night was filled with dark and cold,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>when Sergeant Talbert the story's told,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>pulled out his poncho and headed out,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>to check the lines dressed like a Kraut.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Upon a trooper our hero came,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>fast asleep; he called his name.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'Smith, oh Smith, get up, it's time</em>
</p><p>
  <em>to take your turn out on the line.'</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Private Smith, so very weary,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>cracked an eye, all red and bleary,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>grabbed his rifle and did not tarry,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hearing Floyd, but seeing Jerry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'It's me!' cried Tab. 'Don't do it!' and yet,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Smith charged tout de suite with bayonet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He lunged, he thrust, both high and low,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>and skewered the boy from Kokomo.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And as they carried him away,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>our punctured hero was heard to say,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>'When in this war you venture out,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>best never do it dressed as a Kraut!'"</em>
</p><p>The whole room bursts into a loud laughter at his words. Gordon studies the room with a proud grin plastered on his face, admiring the results of his work, then he continues. "Since you didn't qualify for a Purple Heart, we've taken matters into our own hands." He takes one of the medals off his jackets, and raises it in Talbert's direction. "Tab, this is for you."</p><p>Everybody claps and whistles, congratulating Talbert. Grace also claps vigorously, but her applause is completely directed to Gordon, who with that gesture has earned her full respect.</p><p>"You Heffron?"</p><p>Grace turns to Guarnere, finding him with a hand on Heffron's chest, as if to block him; she knows Heffron, they met quite a few times during training, but they had started talking just a couple of days before. Grace was minding her own business, cleaning her rifle, as a group of replacements stood a few feet from her. One of them was bragging about knowing tricks to not lose a weapon during a jump, when she couldn't handle that bullshit and just shut him up. They all had been taken aback, all but Heffron, who didn't think twice before introducing himself. He's a fine guy from Philadelphia, probably the only one who doesn't give her wary glances every now and then.</p><p>"Yeah," he answers, uncertain.</p><p>"Where are you from?"</p><p>"Who's asking?" questions Heffron, his forehead creased.</p><p>The corner of Guarnere's mouth quirks up. "You're from Philadelphia?"</p><p>Still with a frown, Heffron starts to get more and more suspicious and it's clear he can't wait to vanish elsewhere. "South Philly, yeah."</p><p>"I could tell," Guarnere says, finally taking his hand off the other boy's chest and pausing for a second before adding: "Seventeenth street."</p><p>Heffron's eyes lit up, suddenly feeling he's not endangered anymore. "Yeah? Front street!" he says excited, offering Guarnere his hand.</p><p>"Come here, sit down," Guarnere gestures towards the free spot next to Luz, who's been incredibly quiet the whole time.</p><p>The two start talking and Grace can't help but notice this is the first time she sees a Toccoa veteran engaging in a personal conversation with a replacement. The majority of the guys aren't very inclined to make friends with the new recruits. Grace has never felt like that when new recruits were entrusted to her: yes, there was a high risk that they would screw up because they were new, but everyone was <em>new</em> at some point in their life, right? Plus, Grace really enjoyed teaching her tactics and experiences in combat to new employees.</p><p>"Hey, Heffron, you know our littleprotege yet?" Guarnere asks him, putting his arm around Grace.</p><p>Grace glances over at him, narrowing her eyes. "Your <em>what?"</em></p><p>"Yeah, we met," Heffron nods, grinning.</p><p>"I'm nobody's protege, Bill, I am my own mentor," Grace says, detangling herself from Guarnere's arm.</p><p>"Jeez, smartass! I bet you are," Guarnere laughs, nudging her a little. Then he continues, his look now on Heffron. "This little slip of a thing saved my ass back in France. If it wasn't for her I wouldn't be here, talking to you."</p><p>"What happened?" Heffron asks, his curiosity sincere.</p><p>"Shot a Kraut in the face before he could even realise we were there," Guarnere explains, the others listening wide-eyed. There's a chance that Heffron will tell the story to his fellow replacements, and Grace doesn't mind because maybe that way they would stop looking at her so warily. "I swear to you, he had a hole perfectly between the eyes."</p><p>Heffron seems genuinely impressed with the story, even if it doesn't seem to her that she has accomplished much. Yes, she saved a soldier's life and that's a big deal, but she's done it so many times that it doesn't seem so impressive to her anymore.</p><p>"You would've done the same," she says eventually.</p><p>Guarnere smirks. "Yeah, probably, Smarty."</p><p>"Smarty?"</p><p>"Short for smartass<em>,"</em> Guarnere shrugs, earning a cackle from the whole table.</p><p>"Well, it suits you," Martin steps in, nodding.</p><p>"It does, oh god," Muck agrees, flipping a piece of chicken over at her. "Why didn't we think about it before?"</p><p>"Jesus Christ, you can't think of even earning a better nickname, now," Luz comments, sipping on his glass. Grace kicks him from under the table, making him choke on water. She would've also kicked Muck, but he's too far away.</p><p>"I personally think it'd suit Johnny better. In fact, <em>Smartin</em>," Grace states, more to herself than the others. The men laugh, and Martin raises his hands in surrender.</p><p>"<em>Oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny, how you can love?</em>" sings Muck, eyes darting to Grace to see if she's indeed smart enough to catch the tune. Of course she is.</p><p>"<em>Oh, Johnny, oh, Johnny, Heavens above!</em>" She follows him, and also Perconte unexpectedly joins their little gig.</p><p>"Martin's already got a nickname ages ago. Stop lying to yourself, and accept that you're a Smarty," Guarnere declares and that sounds final. Grace can live with Smarty as a nickname, even though she would always be attached to the ones the Germans gave her years ago: the White Mouse. It makes her feel strong, important, but she won't be able to use it anymore.</p><p>Grace notices a small group forming at the back of the room, consisting of Richard, Nixon, Welsh, Buck and Lipton, all gathered together in a conversation. She doesn't like when officers confabulate that way, nothing good ever comes out of it.</p><p>In fact, a second later Lipton stands up and reaches the spot where Gordon recited his poem, his proud gaze from before now hidden by a trace of sadness.</p><p>"Couple of announcements, men," he says, his tone neutral, then his eyes lay on Grace, "and lady. Listen up. First, the training exercise scheduled for 2200 has been canceled." All men shout in joy, some even claps their hands. "Secondly... all passes are hereby revoked. We're heading back to France, so pack your gear. We will not be returning to England, guys. Anyone who has not made out a will, go to the supply office. Trucks depart from Membury at 0700. As you were."</p><p>That was fast. They just got to England, yet they're being sent back and it's not even been a week.</p><p>Grace's first instinct is to turn to Muck: just the day before, they were planning on going to that Glenn Miller concert. Grace promised she wouldn't go anywhere if it wasn't necessary, but hell if she was going to miss that concert. Not only had his music helped her through very tough times, she also felt some sort of affinity with his character. She wasn't going to miss it for anything in the world. Grace would be taking every precaution before throwing herself in a foreign crowd, because she doesn't want to mess things up now that she's finally managed to fulfill her dream.</p><p>Well, that doesn't matter anymore, does it?</p><p>It's really true that beautiful things don't last long.<br/><br/><br/></p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧<br/><br/><br/></p><p>They didn't get to jump back into France, eventually.</p><p>To their surprise the mission was called off just hours later, they didn't even have time to get ready, they were told everything is fine, no jump, dinner served at 1800.</p><p>The same had happened another time, two weeks later, more or less. They had them get ready for a combat jump in Belgium, but then scrapped again after a few hours.</p><p>Grace has to admit that this wait is very frustrating. Waiting sounds like the easiest thing in the world, but sometimes it can be the toughest. There's that kind of waiting that feels like gentle onshore breezes, a sense of calm, of nature, of things expected. Then there's the kind that feels like having a rabid dog loose in the guts and the head has taken a beating with a hefty plank of wood.</p><p>As Grace lays down on her unmade bed, she thinks that for her it's the latter.</p><p>Not that she's having a hard time, on the contrary: apart from the first weeks, that included heavy exercises just with the replacements, they had very light training during the summer, so most of her time Grace had spent it with the men of Easy Company and with Richard.</p><p>But this push and pull with war is becoming very, very tiring.</p><p>Some of the men had taken long breaks, Welsh had spent some time in Ireland and Lipton visited Scotland with Smokey; others had stayed in London, but Grace had felt that London was dangerous for her. She went out of her way to keep a low profile during the whole summer, the only time she allowed herself to spend time around people was at the Glenn Miller's Army Air Force Band concert. They had made it, eventually. Tickets were provided to each company, and she along with Muck, Malarkey, Guarnere, Toye and a few others, spent a lovely night in company with <em>the man</em>. One of the things that convinced her to show herself around, was that the concert would be attended largely by paratroopers and therefore she felt quite safe.</p><p>That night, Mr Miller said one thing that she's going to keep in her heart as long as she lives: <em>"America means freedom and there's no expression of freedom quite so sincere as music."</em></p><p>Henri came to visit once Grace was at the field, to let her know he was going back to France. It was one of the hottest days of summer, yet it felt like the coldest; Grace couldn't help but notice he was still taken aback from their last conversation and the whole situation involving her, and probably seeing her in uniform didn't help. She was very sorry that they had to say goodbye for the umpteenth time, but she was even more sorry that there was tension between them. This was her choice and if Henri respects her as a person, consequently he has to respect her choices too.</p><p>They had said their goodbyes, and that was it.</p><p>On a happier note, Grace feels more and more close to Easy Company each day. She grew very fond of some of the men: at this point it's useless to deny they're <em>friends. </em>She's always been careful using that word, after all she's been through, but Skip Muck is a true friend. He was the first one along with Luz that had taken her in without question and she feels so grateful and honoured to call him that. Muck had been so deep into Gordon's poem and he had gone to great lengths to memorise it, even persuading Malarkey to interrogate him about the right words. He had literally spent a week going around, chanting <em>The Night of The Bayonet </em>to whoever was willing to listen. Those silly moments are the sweetness she needed in rough times. That's what a friend can do... it's the love that makes doors in emotional brick walls, the love that makes everything possible. She feels that for the first time since Hannah.</p><p>Grace's friendship with Luz, though, it's a different matter.</p><p>Luz is always there, even when Grace doesn't expect him to be. There's something in the way he smiles, a warmth, a genuineness, a softness of spirit she just can't pass up. The more time she spends with him the more her spirit lifts, he's the new friend she'd needed for so long.</p><p>Somehow, whenever she feels down and tries to spend some time alone with her messy thoughts, there he is; Grace came to the conclusion that she doesn't mind it at all, otherwise, his presence started to become almost essential.</p><p>It's that kind of friendship that's not <em>full </em>like the ones with Muck or Malarkey or Hoobler, but as if there's some missing puzzle piece that prevents it from developing properly. Maybe it's not a missing puzzle piece, maybe it's... a few puzzle pieces too many. Like he's too much for her to handle.</p><p>Grace presses her cheek on the cool pillow. She has spent the last hour tossing and turning in bed, unable to succumb to the call of sleep, so she heads on tiptoes to the kitchen, trying not to wake anyone. She fixes herself a cup of tea and then, drawn by the light of the full moon, she goes out onto the porch and lets herself slide into a chair.</p><p>She stays like that for some time, letting her thoughts wander to her husband. What would he think of her? What would he think if he knew that Grace was letting Easy Company slowly destroy her inner wall brick by brick? Would he be proud or worried?</p><p>The sleep pools on her eyelids, and before she realises it, she's wrapped by the warmth of sleep.</p><p> </p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>September 13th, Aldbourne, England.</b>
</p><p>Grace adjusts herself on the uncomfortable chair, sliding down a little on the seatback. At that very moment she seems anything but a proper lady, but she doesn't really care. She doesn't even physically look like a woman anymore: the uniform fits her big enough, the shoulders of the jacket are thick like a man's and the trousers are simply the wrong shape for her legs. Her hair is gathered in a low, tight bun.</p><p>She sips on her beer as she watches Compton beat Heffron at darts.</p><p>"Web, what do they call them letters that the broads send?" Guarnere suddenly turns to where she and Webster are sitting: he's entertaining some of the replacements, who Grace knows well by now because they are in the same platoon as her.</p><p>"Dear John letter," Webster answers meekly, as Guarnere turns back to the other guys.</p><p>David Webster had been transferred to Easy Company right after Normandy; initially Grace had found him rather reserved. According to some, he was quite famous for his caustic wit, almost as if anyone who spoke to him annoyed him. Later on, Grace found out that he acted like that due to his rejection of the war. In many ways he's a totally opposite person to her, but they eventually managed to become friends unexpectedly, especially since he found out that Grace is very fond of reading.</p><p>"Did you ever get one, Web?" asks Christenson. "A Dear John letter."</p><p>"Not that I recall," he answers, accepting a cigarette from his comrade. "What about you, Smarty?"</p><p>Grace takes another sip from her now empty glass, shaking her head. "I've never let any man in except for my late husband, so no one's got the chance to break it off with me."</p><p>Webster smirks. "I'm under the impression if someone's ever dared write you a Dear Jane letter, you'd kill them with just a quick, piercing look."</p><p>Now it's Grace's time to smirk. "I'm afraid your impression is wrong, Harvard," she replies. "I'd only burn that letter in my lovely fireplace because clearly the other person isn't worth a minute of my time."</p><p>"Jeez, if you ever wonder why they call you Smarty, just think back to this moment," Christenson laughs.</p><p>Grace will never admit it, but that nickname is more appropriate than she's willing to let on. By now she had grown fond of it, even if every now and then the men abuse its use just to annoy her. They also call her the White Mouse sometimes, but apparently Smarty is way more catchy to them.</p><p>"Here comes your boyfriend," Webster announces looking over her shoulders. She scoffs even before knowing who that is. A moment later Roy Cobb appears in her view, with a small plate in his hand.</p><p>One day they were training and Guarnere came up to her, saying he thinks that Cobb has a crush on her; obviously Grace didn't give a damn about it, firstly because she wasn't interested in any love affair and secondly, if she was, she wouldn't choose him. She had thought that Guarnere had made it all up just to pass the time, also because most of them are such major flirts, including her. But then she began to realise that the boy was indeed trying to have some sort of contact with her, and she had tried several times to brush him off without succeeding.</p><p>"Hey boys," Cobb greets them, approaching their table. "Lady. Perhaps you'd like some of my sardines?"</p><p>That was definitely the weirdest approach she had ever gotten.</p><p>"I loathe it," Grace answers, fluttering her eyelashes. "But thank you."</p><p>"That's fine, really," he says, trying to hide a hint of disappointment. "Not everyone likes sardines, after all."</p><p>"Indeed."</p><p>With a quick glance to Webster and Christenson, who are frozen on their chairs and seem to be channeling all their strength into not bursting out laughing, he walks away.</p><p>Christenson follows him with his look, and then turns back to Grace. "I think with that you just got yourself your first Dear Jane letter."</p><p>Their laughter radiates through the packed hall, making some people turn. Grace is smiling so broadly that she feels her jaw hurting, as if she hasn't laughed in a long time.</p><p>"Hey y'all, listen up!" Gordon's voice suddenly echoes in the room, making everyone turn. "I got us an announcement to make. This here is Carwood Lipton."</p><p>Gordon draws Lipton to himself, squeezing his shoulders from behind.</p><p>"He's already married, Smokey," Malarkey interrupts him, earning a few cackles from the men.</p><p>"This here is Carwood Lipton, the new Easy Company First Sergeant!"</p><p>The room bursts into applause; Grace is so happy for Lipton, no one deserves that rank more than him. He always takes care of everyone, putting his health in second place. He's a good leader, and she couldn't be more honoured to have him as First Sergeant.</p><p>"As befitting his position, he says he has to make an announcement," Gordon continues and then leaves Lipton in the spotlight.</p><p>Lipton scans the room, smiling shyly at all of his men, but his eyes are sad.</p><p>"Well, I hate to break the mood here, but we're moving out again."</p><p>The laugh from earlier gets caught in Grace's throat, causing her to cough. Has the time finally come? After all the planned and then canceled missions, will they really have to make a jump this time?</p><p>Grace dares to take a look at her comrades spread all over the room: they're all looking disappointed by Lipton's announcement, a moment before they were there laughing and joking and playing darts, and now they look like mannequins. Come to think of it, the other times it had been different, it was as if a punch ripped her stomach apart. Now, honestly, she doesn't feel the same emotion as then, more than anything else she can't wait to break that routine because the anticipation of the unexpected is making her lose her mind.</p><p>She pulls out the pack of cigarettes from her pocket, lighting herself one and throwing the pack on the table.</p><p>"Fucking finally, uh?" Webster breaks off then, stretching his arm to steal a cigarette from her.</p><p>"Yeah, fucking finally," she repeats as other people join their table. Liebgott drops himself on the only free chair, as Muck, Malarkey, Sisk and Shifty position themselves in a circle around them. She doesn't even have the time to look up; Randleman and Guarnere appear with way too many glasses in their hands. Randleman, the usual cigar hanging from his lips, slides a beer in front of her with a feeble: "Come on, drink up, kid."</p><p>They stay like that for some time, Sisk and Shifty went and came back with a couple of chairs so now they're all slumped there, no intention on moving anytime soon.</p><p>"Hey, guys," Webster says at some point on his fourth beer, "you should've seen Cobb earlier... he came here, offering Grace sardines as if they were red roses."</p><p>"Oh, for crying out loud, Web!" Grace protests with a laugh, throwing the pack of cigarettes to him.</p><p>"Thank you for these," he answers, catching the pack and hiding it in his jacket.</p><p>"Sardines?" Shifty asks, wrinkling his nose. "Eww, gross."</p><p>"How was your first mission, Grace?" Liebgott asks all of a sudden, his eyes slightly red from sleep.</p><p>That's a question she certainly didn't expect, least of all from Liebgott. He doesn't seem like the curious type of guy, but understandably he's just looking for a way to not think about the upcoming mission. Probably like everyone else.</p><p>Grace sighs. "It was a small one. I made my first jump into France along with ten other agents, had to make contact with the French Resistance to blow up a railway tunnel."</p><p>"Thought you said it was small," Sisk comments, frowning.</p><p>"Well," Grace starts, giving him a weak smile, "compared to my other missions, yes, it was a small one."</p><p>"They truly bleed you at SOE," Webster observes, resting his elbows on the table and intertwining his hands together. "You went through some serious shit in your life, have you? You look like one of those people who hide their feelings behind some sort of protective wall, thinking in vain that nothing could ever scratch it."</p><p>It's as if Webster had slapped Grace in the face. The truth of those words strikes her more than she would have thought, perhaps because of the way he said them, with that disarming nonchalance. Everything he implied is true, and Grace is aware of it. She has learned that acting like that prevents her from being hurt or disappointed by people, and even facing the war using that approach has helped her tremendously on many occasions. Almost always.</p><p>Grace is sure she wouldn't have survived until now if she wasn't the strong woman that she is.</p><p>"Jeez, Web, you're a fucking intellectual yet it's clear you don't know the meaning of being sensitive," is Sisk's response, as he eyes Webster as if he just said he wants to kill the president. Grace is absolutely not cross with Webster for what he said, after all it's only the truth.</p><p>"It's okay, Skinny, really," Grace says eventually. "He's right. It's true, it's a hard and at times an unsustainable job, but I chose it and I had to adapt. <em>To survive</em>. I'm human, I have feelings, and I see nothing wrong with trying not to show them as much as possible to prevent an inevitable breakdown."</p><p>Webster seems content with her answer, and to be honest she feels a little bit lighter too.</p><p>"Fuck, kid," Guarnere blinks at her.</p><p>"You keep calling me <em>kid </em>even though I'm older than you, Bill," Grace jokes, trying to somehow break the gloomy mood that had enveloped them. He just shrugs, smiling.</p><p>"And what about your last mission?" asks Muck curiously. "Before us, I mean."</p><p>Grace gulps. No matter what Grace does or says, no matter what countries she travels to, one way or another her thoughts always dance their way back to Hannah.</p><p>"France," she says. "Unlike my first mission, this one was a failure... in many ways."</p><p>"What was it?"</p><p>"We, uh... me and my associate, Hannah, had to blow up a building where some Nazi shitheads were having lunch. But we failed, sometimes failures happened for one reason or another."</p><p>"Your friend is SOE as well?" Shifty asks, looking very interested in her story.</p><p>"No, she's French Resistance." Grace doesn't immediately realise that her voice is shaky for the first time in a long time. "She's my best friend."</p><p>
  <em>The streets of Paris are semi-deserted on that Sunday night, only the dull sound of silence around them, as if a strong wind had suddenly swept away the entire French population. Grace knows very well that the cause of that desolation is not just any wind, but a storm called Nazism.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Grace adjusts the yellow beret on her head, an odd feeling growing in her guts as she inadvertently squeezes the handlebars of the bike.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No one's around, good," Hannah declares, walking beside her. Her proud and careless demeanor are the first things one notices when watching her walk, her chin raised and a defiant look spread across her face. Hannah turns to Grace, smiling, pushing a strand of raven hair behind her ear.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah, probably," Grace agrees.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Their target building is already full of SS officers, just as they had told her it would be; Grace had never liked the plan from the beginning, she had always found it unwise and extremely risky. Especially since she and Hannah were alone, only a couple of French Resistance members covering their backs from afar.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The plan is simple: steal some important documents, blow up the building.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As it was dark there was less chance of being seen, and probably no one would have suspected two girls riding bicycles. Their task isn't too difficult, Grace has done it many times already. She would have to slide through a window overlooking a deserted alley, steal papers for SOE and, once she got out, she and Hannah would have to throw some grenades to blow the building into pieces. Considering that at the moment there are enough of German soldiers gorging on food a few meters away, if this works it will do some damage to Hitler's army.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"It's time," Grace whispers, "you're ready?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yes, captain," Hannah jokes, bringing the hand up to give her the salute. "Always ready."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Good," she breathes, trying a smile. "Remember the plan. You just stay over there. If someone approaches you, you just say your bike chain broke, take time, and you wait for me. You hear me?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Yeah, as it happens I've got ears."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Stop being so cocky, this is war, not some school exam!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm not being cocky, you're being too motherly for my liking!" Hannah protests. "I can manage, Grace, I've been doing this since I was fourteen."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Grace can't help but surrender to the evidence, but the fact remains that she's worried sick about her friend; lately she's been more distrait, more impulsive than usual and this could cost them the mission. Or her life. Or both.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just when they're about to get closer to the door, a rough voice startles them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You! You two, kommen sie hier," a German says to them.</em>
</p><p>Shit, <em>Grace thinks. </em>Shit, shit, shit.</p><p>
  <em>They approach the man, Hannah with a smug face that Grace wishes she could slap away. This is no time to be aggressive, let alone with a member of the SS.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Papers," the man demands, stretching out a hand. "Quick."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Alright, alright," Hannah says, "no need to be this rude."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Quick."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hannah puts a flirting smile on her young face, Grace can see it even in the moonlight. She always does that in similar circumstances, but Grace isn't sure it will work this time because the man's face is anything but willing. And apparently they're absolutely screwed because Grace has no papers, and above all she has a bounty over her head.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Grace watches as Hannah rifles through her bag, but her gaze is not following her movements, she's staring at a point just beyond her hands, as if she's waiting for something. Grace immediately realises what her friend is about to do, but she's not sure it's a good idea. Actually, it's a terrible idea but perhaps that's the only option they have now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It all happens in a fraction of second.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hannah draws her gun out and shoots the German in the face, leaving Grace not much of a choice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Run! Go away!" she yells at Hannah as she drops the bike and heads for the building. Now or never, there's no time to think about it: by now at least fifty German soldiers will have heard the shots and are heading outside. Grace, driven by adrenaline, has never felt her legs travel faster. The mission had already gone to hell even before starting, Grace knows that by now she wouldn't be able to steal those damned documents. But at least she can still try to cause some damage. Within seconds she reaches the door and notices Hannah was just behind her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Get the fuck out of here! That's an order!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"No!" Hannah screams, her face splattered with blood and the grenade tight in her hand. "You'll never make it with a single grenade."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>With a loud groan, Grace pulls the pin of the hand grenade as Hannah shoots to the windows, and both of them throw the bombs inside.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Grace grabs her friend by the hand and together they begin to run, they're not even two steps in and they're forced to duck to the ground due to the explosion as shrapnel flies over their heads. With her head throbbing and feeling blinded by flashing colorful spots, Grace gets up and starts running again because she suddenly hears voices and gunshots; glancing back, she notices that thankfully Hannah is following her. The bullets continue to fly over their heads, but luckily the blast created enough smoke to ensure that the soldiers can't see where they are going. Grace looks back again, noticing with a sense of horror that the damage to the building is not as bad as she hoped</em>
</p><p>
  <em>After what seems a lifetime, Grace and Hannah finally reach the bridge.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Grace feels her heart sinking as she turns back to her friend: she's right behind her, her face beaded with sweat and smoke, yet a grin painted on her face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"We made it?" Hannah asks, her voice barely audible. Grace turns her gaze to her once cream-colored blouse, now dyed in a horribly crimson colour. Her heart leaps into her throat as she sees her friend slump to the ground. Grace hastens to take her, gently placing her between her legs: no, this won't happen, Grace will never allow it. Luckily she has the medical kit with her, if the wound is not too severe she may be able to stop the bleeding at least until they reach the safe house. She tears her blouse off and she notices with horror that Hannah's belly is pierced by at least five holes.</em>
</p><p><em>"Yes, my friend, we made it," she lies, thinking back to the failed mission that seemed to have happened hours ago, and yet it's only been two minutes. "We made it, but now I need </em>you <em>to make it, okay? Keep looking at me, come on."</em></p><p>
  <em>"Grace," she says, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Hannah chokes on her own words, suddenly a stream of blood escapes her cherry lips.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Hannah, please, focus on my voice," Grace pleads. The previous commotion had woken up the neighborhood, the noise of excited voices and footsteps doesn't go unnoticed by Grace. However, German soldiers could be around the corner right now for all she knows and she wouldn't give a damn. All she cares about now is her hands covered in Hannah's blood and she is unable to do anything to save her. "You're a tough little shit, don't die on me like this."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I'm sorry, Grace," she apologises while tears are filling her eyes. "I don't wanna leave you."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"So don't!" Grace almost shouts, "You're all I have left, I'm begging you, don't do this to me."</em>
</p><p><em>"I'm sorry... I'll</em>⎯<em> I'll make up to you..." Hannah coughs, her eyes now blank, "... when we'll meet again... in the next life..."</em></p><p>
  <em>Death comes to Hannah with a slow rattling gasp. Her breathing stops for a time only to reemerge like a drowning victim coming up for one last breath. Grace can't bring herself to take her look off Hannah's empty eyes, her heart drenched by fear doesn't throb any longer as she fades into darkness.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In a few moments she had passed on. Grace knows that Hannah was devoted to God so in that very moment she hopes that her friend's soul was bound for the Lord.</em>
</p><p>"Is your friend in France now?" Guarnere's voice startles her.</p><p>The room is shrouded in terrifying silence, Grace doesn't know if it's only happening in her head or if it's for real, but it gives her a very strange feeling of melancholy.</p><p>Grace had never cried for Hannah. Grace had never cried in her whole life, except for Henri's death. She doesn't know if she will ever be able to cry again, but she's sure that in that moment, there with the men of Easy Company and the memories from a few months ago, she's very close.</p><p>She looks up at Guarnere.</p><p>"My friend is dead."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here we go again, I hope you liked it, this was was a good mixture of sadness and happiness, was it? A couple of things before I go:<br/>- the title of this chapter is both because of what Grace thinks in the first part, but especially because of Hannah</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Spy and The Captain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much Angie (@hellitwasyoufirstsergeant) for helping me out with this one, I love you so much my friend :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>It's a beautiful and sunny day in mid-September, the chillness of autumn is now making its way into those days of waiting before the imminent mission. Grace has always liked the season, especially when she was at her home in the States: she used to look out of the window and admire the crisp copper leaves falling off the trees that swayed gently in the autumn wind. The clouds overlapping each other, making the sky a gloomy gray and the sweet scent of cinnamon apple candles burning while her mother made a pumpkin pie in the kitchen. </p><p>That's probably the only thing that Grace misses about her.</p><p>Due to her challenging job and a world war going on, she doesn't even realise when one season moves into another anymore. Grace felt very surprised and somewhat relieved when she left the house that morning, noticing the orange color of the leaves, and the breeze, rich with the aroma of earth, pinching her cheeks.</p><p>A single golden leaf had pirouetted down an invisible spiral of breeze, spinning through the air as it let itself be carried down as she had stared at it as if she was hypnotized. </p><p>Grace still doesn’t know how, but somehow things are changing. <em> She </em> is changing.</p><p>She adjusts herself on the chair, observing as men try to find free spots in the crowded place; she looks to her right, Roe seated next to her. He must sense her gaze because he turns, a smile on his face. Then she follows his gaze that is set on the big writing that makes the title of the large map hanging on the wall: Operation Market Garden.</p><p>Suddenly the tent falls silent, as Richard approaches the map.</p><p>“As you can see, this is called Operation Market Garden,” he starts, nodding at the title before explaining the mission to them. They will have to jump into occupied Holland as the Allied objective is to take a road between Eindhoven and Arnhem, so the British armoured divisions can pass through, and so liberate the Netherlands. The 506th’s job will be to liberate the town of Eindhoven and stay there, waiting for the British tanks. To hear it described like that, the operation seems as ordinary as its name. It must be said that all of the operations with funny names that Grace had taken part in have been ironically the toughest.</p><p>“The entire European advance has been put on hold to allocate resources for this operation,” Nixon steps in. “It’s Montgomery’s personal plan, we’ll be under British command.” Someone boos, someone swears, Grace just smirks to herself: she’s used to working with multiple organisations, but apparently the Americans are a little too proud to have to endure being under British command. “The good news is, if this works, these tanks will be over the Rhine and into Germany. That could end the war, get us home by Christmas. It'll be a daytime jump. Intelligence doesn’t expect much opposition. They think that the Krauts in Holland are mostly kids and old men, and we should take them by surprise. In any case, say goodbye to England. I don’t think they’re gonna call this one off.”</p><p>That’s it, this is the operation that is finally tearing them away from that monotony and that agonizing wait. Who knows if in a few weeks Grace will regret complaining about waiting at all. Nixon’s speech had her worried: first of all, never underestimate old men and kids; they’re the most unpredictable. Second of all, daytime jump? It's more convenient when it comes to reaching a target, but without the cover of darkness it's very risky. The one thing she likes about his speech is the part ‘get us home by Christmas’, which sounds exciting and she hopes there’s no lie in it.</p><p>“Well, that sounds like the perfect holiday,” Luz comments while the others start to leave the tent, probably going to fetch some lunch.</p><p>“Yeah, bet there’ll be loads of picnics,” Grace jokes, fiddling with a crease on her trousers. </p><p>Luz laughs, standing up. “You coming?”</p><p>In a moment they’re outside, and are hit by a light cool breeze, which makes Grace shiver a little and causes her to button up her jacket all the way up.</p><p>“Hey,” Luz breaks the silence, like he just remembered something important, “how many jumps are you in? Three? Four?”</p><p>“This one’ll be my ninth, actually.”</p><p>“<em> Ninth?” </em>Luz gives her an impressed look, his eyes bulge slightly out in surprise. “What? Shit, man, that’s the coolest thing I’ve heard recently.”</p><p>“Well, thank you, Luz. You are really cool, too,” she says, gently bumping his shoulder. “Never met cooler people than you guys, actually.”</p><p>Luz seems content with the answer and looks as if he wants to add something but remains silent instead, a cigarette balancing precariously between his lips, which are mildly curved into a smile.</p><p>“I can’t believe we’ll get to spend Christmas at home,” he says then. “Unlike our birthday.”</p><p>“Don’t even mention that.”</p><p>“At least the presents were good,” Luz shrugs, joking. “I still have the grenade you gave me, with the ribbon and all.”</p><p>“I’ve already fired those bullets you gave me, instead, whoops,” she informs him. “In my defen⎯”</p><p>“Grace.” Grace turns to the voice that had interrupted them, finding Richard. She smiles broadly at him as he approaches. “Luz,” he adds.</p><p>“Sir,” Luz nods.</p><p>“Hey, stranger,” Grace mocks him, faking an offended tone. Truth is, they had spent quite some time together after Normandy, but Grace had seen Richard rarely these past few weeks; with him being an officer he didn’t get much free time. </p><p>“See you later, Grace,” Luz says then, guessing that Richard wanted to speak to her alone. “Captain Winters.”</p><p>“Walk with me,” Richard tells her, his eyes still on Luz walking away. “I’m sorry I haven’t been present lately, are you doing okay?”</p><p>“I’m okay, Rich,” she says, following him, hands intertwined behind her back. “No need to apologise, I’m not your ward or something.”</p><p>Richard smiles, nodding to himself. “I know. I know, I just feel like I should’ve been there for you during these first months. It must’ve been quite overwhelming.”</p><p>“It was in many ways,” Grace confesses, “but overall it went okay. I’m used to going through these sorts of, I don’t know,<em> challenges </em>? No need to worry about me. I’m fine, I got a handful of soldiers watching my back.”</p><p>“So I heard.”</p><p>They walk in silence for some time, interrupted occasionally by the soldiers who salute them. </p><p>“Grace, I wanted to discuss something with you.”</p><p>Here it is, the lecture before the big day. In the five years that she had worked for SOE and the French Resistance, no one had ever allowed themselves to lecture her; Grace had never given anyone the reason to have to do so, and she had always been valued as an agent and as a soldier. Here it seems that Richard is still facing the seven year old girl who he used to rock on the swing.</p><p>It’s great to remember, but it’s the past.</p><p>“I need you to be careful when we’re  in Eindhoven,” he begins, and Grace knows he’s looking at her but she keeps her gaze focused ahead. “Not militarily speaking, I know by now you can handle battle better than me at your age. I’m talking here about your cover. You have to try to stay hidden among the others, always be in a group. Don't give anyone the opportunity to understand that you’re a woman. I know the Dutch are our allies, but we have to be careful. You’ve done good the entire summer, I just wanted to be sure you’ll do the same in combat.”</p><p>Grace has to admit that she had misjudged him, that she thought he would give her the typical lecture about being careful with weapons, following her platoon's officers, and the usual. She also has to admit that she still hadn’t thought about how she would keep her cover surrounded by strangers, and so close to the enemy.</p><p>“I’ll do my best, of course,” Grace reassures him eventually, this time looking up. It’s clear he’s worried, not just for her but in general; as a leader, having all those lives in his hands, one gets the right to be worried. </p><p>“Do you remember when you used to come to me asking for advice on girls?” Grace asks then, shaking her head with a huge grin spread on her face. </p><p>Richard follows her laughter. “Ah, how could I ever forget? You made me end up with Tina Grey in seventh grade!”</p><p>“Oh, Tina! Tina here, Tina there, I’ll remember her forever!” she laughs again. “I wish you’d trust me like that also in the field.”</p><p>Richard seems a bit taken aback, he probably didn't expect a change of subject and tone so drastic. In all honesty, Grace didn't expect it either, but she always has to say what’s on her mind.</p><p>“Grace…”</p><p>“I know you trust me, Rich, believe me I do,” she interrupts him, with a step further she stands in front of him, blocking him. “But I feel like you’ll always see me as your childhood best friend, which is fine, but now we’re in this war together and I need a little more credit. Especially from you.”</p><p>“Grace,” he repeats, locking their eyes together, “it’s true you’ll always be my childhood friend, nothing will ever change that. Back in Normandy, I’m sorry if I overreacted sometimes, but put yourself in my shoes for a second. I haven’t seen you in years, yet you’re there, so different from what I remembered. So… your eyes were so blank sometimes it scared me.”</p><p>“War changes everyone. Everything.”</p><p>Richard nods in consent, then he stays silent for some time, finding his boots particularly interesting.</p><p>“How’s Peacock?” he asks then.</p><p>“He’s okay for now. Average,” Grace states as they move again. She doesn’t know where they’re headed, plausibly nowhere, but sure she's starving. “I miss Harry, though.”</p><p>“Don’t let him hear that,” Richard jokes, “it could go to his head.”</p><p>“But it’s true, everybody says so.”</p><p>Since when Welsh got promoted, Grace hadn’t seen him around much; at first because he went to Ireland when they first returned from France, and then because being an executive officer doesn’t get to be around the men anymore as he used to. It’s true that Grace misses him, he was such a funny element in the platoon.</p><p>“This has nothing to do with that time you told me you wish you were Kitty, right?” Richard inquires, suspicious.</p><p>“No! God, no, Rich,” she blurts out, laughing at herself. “That was a joke! I’m definitely not in love with him, I just find him interesting and funny. That’s all, I swear. Besides, no love for me.”</p><p>Richard gives her a sad smile; even after everything Grace had told him about Henri, about their short love story, he can't possibly understand what it's like. So she appreciates the fact that he doesn't argue, that he doesn't say the usual formal 'oh no, don't say that!', that he simply stays silent. She's very grateful to him.</p><p>
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</p><p>In Grace's experience, she doesn't remember ever spending so much time preparing for a jump. Whenever she had to parachute on SOE's behalf, she doesn't recall dedicating so much time to getting dressed, tying up laces over laces, multiple belts, bags, and so on and so forth. She's been trying to adjust the harness for at least ten minutes now, but somehow it bothers her in the groin; plus she can't figure out how she will manage to jump with all that weight on her, it almost feels like she's holding a person in her arms.</p><p>Webster is next to her, handling it so perfectly she’s almost envious.</p><p>“You okay, kiddo?”</p><p>Grace turns with her brow furrowed, as an exhaustive answer to Randleman’s question: he’s with Martin, both clearly all geared up and ready to set foot on the plane. </p><p>“Put the belt under this,” Martin explains as he fixes her harness, “here, just like that. It won’t trouble you and it’s safer.”</p><p>“Thanks, sarge,” Grace grumbles, a little ashamed of having to be helped with this. </p><p>In response, Martin gives her a lopsided smile as he scans her uniform to see if there's anything else to put in order.</p><p>“You ready for Holland, Corporal?”</p><p>As much as Grace had heard that term addressed to her many times in recent months, she still struggles to believe that she’s in fact a corporal in the US Army; sometimes she wonders what her father would say, if he knew she’s actually alive and well, obviously. In five years she's never wanted to see his face, or missed him whatsoever, but right now she would pay to see the expression on his face as she's about to jump into war with the Airborne.</p><p>“Ready as I’ll ever be, sarge,” she replies. “Unlike the Germans.”</p><p>The men both let out a soft laugh, Randleman ruffling her hair a little, messing up her low, tight bun.</p><p>At that moment their gazes are captured by a jeep approaching. Grace follows their puzzled looks as the jeep stops just a few meters from them: next to the driver, stands what looks like a very tall and composed man, a rigid and slightly tense expression printed on his face. He gets out of the car just as Grace's gaze falls on another familiar-looking man, who’s carefully jumping out of the car, helped by Lipton.</p><p>“Popeye!” Randleman calls him, waving his big hand. “Welcome back, boy.”</p><p>Popeye smiles brightly at them. “Hey, glad to be back!” Then his eyes fall on Grace and a line appears between his brows: he probably remembers her from Normandy, when they crossed paths while he was being carried away on a stretcher, because he was hit in his buttocks during the Brecourt Manor assault. Popeye is probably wondering what the hell is Grace still doing there, but she’s sure Lipton will fill him in on the latest news.</p><p>She salutes him as they walk away.</p><p>“Can’t believe that son of a bitch went AWOL,” Martin comments, smirking. “On top of that, he showed up here with none other than the man himself.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Randleman agrees, chewing on his cigar. “Speaking of the devil…”</p><p>He nods at a point behind Grace, and she turns around just in time to see the man from before marching up to them: his look is still strict as he reaches them in a very awkward walk. Both Martin and Randleman stand at attention, saluting him and Grace does the same. The captain gives the two men a resentful look and then his dark eyes settle on her: he's a whole head taller than Grace, and towers over her with arrogance.</p><p>Grace doesn’t know who this man is, but the way he’s staring at her is starting to make her guts grumble in annoyance.</p><p>“What’s this?” he asks without breaking eye contact with her.</p><p>“Corporal Whitehead, Grace D., sir,” she answers, even though she’s pretty sure his question wasn’t addressed directly to her. “Easy Company.”</p><p>“Easy⎯” he starts, words dying in his mouth. “What do you mean Easy Company, what happened to my company, Sergeant Randleman?”</p><p>So, this must be the infamous Captain Sobel, then. Grace should have got that at the ‘what’s this’ bit.</p><p>“Sir?” Randleman questions.</p><p>“Did a grenade explode in your ear, Randleman? I asked what the hell happened in this company since I’ve been gone.”</p><p>Grace has never taken her eyes off Captain Sobel since he arrived, as if in defiance. Right from the start he looked at Grace as if she were a waste of space, scrutinizing her with those dark eyes in search of God knows what. Instead of asking her who she was, he had asked the person next to her; instead of asking her why she was there, he had asked the person next to her once again.</p><p>She dares to look at Randleman, who looks slightly uncomfortable and seems to take his time to respond; most likely he doesn't know where to start, because nothing happened to Easy Company. </p><p>Grace decides to free him from that burden and answer for him once again.</p><p>“Last time I checked, Easy Company was Captain Winters’ company,” Grace says with mock politeness, because she can’t hold it any longer. “Sir.”</p><p>Sobel's face is a picture that Grace will not forget very easily. It's the exact same face that Charles Poulton, one of Grace's old school friends, made when she told him that Santa doesn't exist; the same expression of  disbelief and indignation.</p><p>“I <em> built </em> Easy Company from the scratch, <em> Wonky </em>head,” Sobel instructs. “Clearly Winters isn't doing a very good job after all, from what I see the company is in shambles. Females playing toy soldiers in the Army, this isn’t Hollywood, I wouldn't tolerate that.”</p><p>“Good thing you don’t need to worry about it, then, given it’s not your company anymore, sir.”</p><p>The more Grace speaks, the more he looks as if he wishes he could have the power to shut her up: Grace is maintaining a certain composure in the face of his accusatory and totally out of place attitude, and god knows how much men hate when women stand up to them.</p><p>With the corner of the eye, Grace catches a glimpse of Martin who lowers his head for a moment and she is quite sure she saw a hint of a smile.</p><p>“I might not have power over Easy anymore, but be sure I’ll make it my goal to kick your ass out of this regiment, woman. You don’t belong here.”</p><p>“Suit yourself,” Grace replies, a rage she hasn't felt in a long time is boiling inside her. Her instinct is telling her to take Sobel's head and smash it against the wheel of that damn jeep. “Who’s gonna tell General Taylor about that, though? You, sir? Because it so happens that the man himself along with the head of SOE, none other than General Major Gubbins, have travelled many a weary mile to get me here. And so did I. So, what will they say when a mere captain goes out of his way to dismiss their protege? What will they say when you try to deprive the American Army of a special forces agent?”</p><p>Silence. Sobel is staring at her as if she had been speaking a language he couldn’t understand. As Grace scans his face for a reaction, the silence hangs in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. She expects him to shower her with insults, to slap her, to grab her jump wings and rip them off the fabric. But he does none of those things. Instead, Sobel lays his gaze elsewhere for a few seconds, which is enough for Grace to see a glimmer of defeat on his face, then rests it on her once again, his eyes black.</p><p>Sobel just gives a quick glance at Martin and Randleman, who had been silent until that moment, and just leaves without a single word. He steps into the jeep, and it’s just then that he finds the courage to look at her in the eyes one last time.</p><p>“You’re delusional. You’ll never be part of the Airborne.”</p><p>Grace takes a step forward, gathering all the pride in her and hoping it’s dazzling enough to blind Sobel with its brightness.</p><p>“I already am, sir.”</p><p>That’s it, hopefully she never has to see him again. She doesn’t understand why, but Grace feels so, so disappointed. She keeps following him with her eyes until he’s gone, wondering how the hell her comrades manage to get through nearly two years under the command of that horrible man.</p><p>“Shit, Grace,” Martin begins, resting a hand on her shoulder, “you devastated him.”</p><p>“You ain’t gonna be an agent undercover, though, kid,” Randleman comments, and Grace senses a hint of humor in his accusation.</p><p>She smirks, turning her head to her friends. “But he doesn’t know that, does he?”</p><p>
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</p><p>Parachutes litter the sky like the confetti of a summer wedding. </p><p>The cold air rushes past as Grace accelerates faster and faster. Grace pulls the ripcord, her parachute opens quickly and with relief she notices that it had opened as a full canopy, slowing her down to a more leisurely decline. She feels like she's floating and not falling at all. But the trees on the ground are getting bigger and closer.</p><p>Below the parachute she feels liberated. There's nothing more to do than trust the wind and the silk above. She's flying. Her meeting with Captain Sobel just hours ago is now a distant memory.</p><p>As she touches the ground, Grace feels a rush of emotions she can't even begin to describe. </p><p>She frees herself from the chute, gathers all of her stuff and her rifle, and starts running, following her comrades through the open field watching as half of them still have to touch the ground.</p><p>The jump went better than she expected. They had landed near the drop zone and within the first few hours they managed to capture two of five bridges that were assigned to them. Although they had encountered just a little resistance on the way to the Son Bridge, when they reached it they were met by enemy harassing fire whilst the bridge was destroyed by the Germans. Apparently the intelligence gave the Army incorrect information and they didn't get to the bridge on time. After the engineers had installed a makeshift crossing, Easy Company had finally been able to get to Eindhoven.</p><p>Grace doesn’t know what time it is when they finally reach the outskirts of town, but she figures it would probably be mid afternoon. She’s feeling a little tired, but the adrenaline keeps her awake and alert as usual. However, she can't bring herself to hide some concern about having to mingle with strangers: she hopes for her sake and for the Airborne’s that she will manage to go unnoticed.</p><p>Instinctively she pulls up the collar of her uniform and lowers the helmet slightly over her forehead, so as to hide a good part of her face. In her opinion, Grace has never found her features particularly feminine nor pretty, but  maybe this will help her just in case.</p><p>“Hey, little bird,” she hears from behind. She smiles even before turning around, finding Welsh right next to her. </p><p>“Harry,” she greets him happily. “What brings you down to us commoners?”</p><p>“Ha! Very funny,” he says nudging her. “Dick thinks it’s better if you stay with us while we enter town. Thinks it’s safer.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t it be safer if I blended in with the men?” Grace frowns. “I mean, no offence but maybe snipers are more interested in you officers than… us.”</p><p>“I’m just following the orders. Also, already warned Peacock you wouldn’t be with the 1st Platoon for a couple of hours.”</p><p>Grace doesn’t see a point in it, but who is she to argue the captain’s orders? She holds onto her rifle and follows Welsh through the oddly silent soldiers, when she feels a hand grabbing her arm.</p><p>“Where are you going?” Luz asks.</p><p>“Captain wants me,” she shrugs, ignoring her friend’s concerned look.</p><p>The moment Easy Company sets foot in the town, a roar of excitement almost makes Grace lose her hearing: the people flow like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but swirling around them. The Dutch crowd has a life of its own, with the vibrant orange of their flags and the people move like enchanting shoals of fish.</p><p>Grace unconsciously squeezes herself closer to Richard. It’s been so long since she has been surrounded by this many people and she feels anguish in her throat, a sensation she has never experienced before. Grace feels odd being surrounded by so many strangers after spending months avoiding crowded places, she's not used to this and it makes her heart beat faster.</p><p>“Gotta love Holland,” Nixon declares after two women kissed him on the cheeks.</p><p>They stop near an intersection; Grace witnesses a woman kissing Richard on the mouth, leaving him puzzled as he watches her move away. </p><p>“Hey Rich, can I be your maid of honor?” she jokes, still laughing at his reaction.</p><p>Before he can respond, a woman approaches Grace and cups her face as if to kiss her. Instinctively she takes the woman's wrist and squeezes it tightly: at first she seems surprised by Grace's reaction, her eyes darting from her face to Grace's grip, and then suddenly she realises. Her eyes linger on Grace's face once again and there is no doubt that the woman now knows she's not a regular soldier. Grace's heart is beating wildly, she didn't expect to be discovered as soon as she set foot in the town, but now she’s in trouble. How could she be so stupid? Unexpectedly, a huge smile spreads on the woman's face, tears shimmering in her eyes and the moment Grace releases the grip on her wrist, the woman grabs her hand gently and gives her a sweet kiss on the back of her hand.</p><p>“Bedankt,” the woman says kindly before walking away.</p><p>“Holy shit,” Welsh’s surprised voice startles Grace as she stares at the spot where the woman had just vanished. “That was… intense.”</p><p>“What did she say?” Grace asks at no one in particular, then she brings her worried look to Richard. “Rich, she recognised me.”</p><p>“I believe she said <em> thank you, </em>” Nixon answers. “And I don’t think she’d never say a word to anyone.”</p><p>“Why? How can you possibly know that?”</p><p>Nixon shrugs. “Have you seen her face? It was like you told her the war is really over. Her country has been occupied by Nazis for years, and now we’ve liberated her and her lands. She saw that one of her liberators was a woman, just like her. Her eyes screamed <em> pride </em>the moment she realised that. She won’t want to betray the woman that saved her.”</p><p>“But… I didn’t do anything.” Grace doesn’t understand, her mind is working fast.</p><p>“I don’t think that matters. I think in her eyes, you did everything.”</p><p>Grace doesn't know whether to believe what Nixon is telling her, although looking back at the woman's surprised gaze it really seemed like she was proud. She hopes with every fiber of her body that Nixon is right and the woman doesn't betray her; maybe she has more important things to think about at the moment than going around saying there's a woman in the US military.</p><p>“We gotta get to these bridges,” Richard reminds them.</p><p>They move a little forward as to face the square, Grace notices that apparently all that commotion wasn't only due to their arrival, but there is something happening right in the middle of that square. There are women on their knees, some of them are crying while others display resignation on their faces: they are being shaved and undressed as if they were rag dolls.</p><p>She feels a hand on her shoulder, as Nixon speaks. “You don’t need to watch this.”</p><p>“I know,” Grace says with a firm tone: her facial muscles are tense, so tense she feels like she wouldn’t be able to change her expression anytime soon. “As heartless as it sounds, they're grown ups, they knew they had to face the consequences of their choices one day or another. It’s sad, but it’s war.”</p><p>“What did they do?” Welsh asks and Grace is about to respond when another voice speaks before her, a familiar voice with a thick accent.</p><p>“They slept with the Germans,” the man behind her says. “They are lucky. The men who collaborated are being shot.”</p><p>“Mr van Kooijk here is with the Dutch resistance,” Nixon explains. </p><p>When she gets the confirmation she was waiting for, Grace whirls around, coming face to face with someone she hasn't seen in a long, long time. He doesn't seem to mind her, his gaze instead lands on Richard.</p><p>“John?” she asks.</p><p>John frowns at her until realization strikes him like lightning.</p><p>“Hélène? Is that you?”</p><p>“It’s me,” Grace confirms, pushing her helmet up a little just to show him her face. She hasn’t seen John in two years, but he hasn’t changed a bit. She had. “Where’s Adriaan?”</p><p>Adriaan is the leader of the Dutch resistance, Grace did a couple of missions with him what felt like decades ago.</p><p>“What are you doing here? We all thought you were dead, it was all over the papers this summer!” John answers, surprised to see her there. “Adriaan is up north for a job.”</p><p>“You two know each other?” Richard queries with an eyebrow raised. He gives Grace a reproachful look, and she would have agreed if she didn't know John the way she does.</p><p>John nods. “Yes, we’ve worked together a few times in the past. Hél, I won’t tell anyone I saw you here, you can trust me.”</p><p>“That’d better be true, John, or else I swear I’ll find you and slit your throat in your sleep,” Grace threatens him as a huge smile appears on his face. “Glad to see you.”</p><p>“Same here, my friend. We miss your wit,” he laughs and jabs her shoulder, and then his look goes back to Richard. “We’ve been waiting and hoping for this day for almost five years. To be free.”</p><p>Grace knows that’s the truth, she had been with them for some time during the German occupation and she had witnessed how they had to live. She truly can’t imagine how they must feel now that they’re finally free, after all they have been through.</p><p>“He says he can help us secure the bridges here,” Nixon says.</p><p>“Yes, together we can push the remaining Germans out of Eindhoven. And that’s just the beginning,” John confirms as they all start walking away from the crowd.</p><p>Richard nods, then turns to Nixon while John walks off towards a group of kids and grabs one by the arm. “Any idea where they might be?”.</p><p>“Well, we’re still working on that right now,” Nixon answers.</p><p>“Peers and his friends here are gathering information as we speak,” says John with his arm surrounding the boy: he can’t  have been more than twelve years old.</p><p>“His contacts a couple of towns down said they saw the British 2nd and Guards Armoured move through about half an hour ago,” Nixon informs Richard.</p><p>He gives the boy a concerned stare. “They’re kids.”</p><p>“So what?” Grace frowns. “Kids are ten times more subtle and fearless than adults.” But she can’t deny she had been as suspicious as Richard the first time the Dutch resistance assigned her a ten year old kid for her first mission.</p><p>“These are reliable reports,” John reassures them and Grace believes him all the way. “Anything we can do to help you, we will do. Anything.” At that moment a roar echoes in the square as the British Shermans slowly advance through the crowd. “Right on time.”</p><p>Grace is glad that the tanks are finally here, so they can finally escape that horde of people that's starting to suffocate her; the continuous high pitched screams, even though they're joyful screams, are giving her a headache, making her almost prefer a series of gunshots.</p><p>“Captain,” John addresses Richard, “I’ll be happy to show you the quickest route to the bridges.” Finally convinced, Richard nods and shakes John’s hand. “I’d be happy to have your help.” </p><p>While Richard turns to give instructions to the others, John approaches Grace with a tired smile.</p><p>“I’d never imagined I’d see you again, Grace, especially not here with the Americans. Do they know your identity? I wasn’t sure earlier...” John confesses, resting his hands on her shoulders. “We’ve heard about Henri. My condolences.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Grace thanks him with a barely audible voice. “Yes, they do. It’s good to see that you’re okay.”</p><p>“Well, I’m a father now, I need to be.”</p><p>“No shit!” Grace exclaims in excitement. “Really? I’m so happy for you, John, truly.”</p><p>“Thanks,” he says quietly, “my little Jaela. She’s six months old, yet she’s a little fighter already.”</p><p>“I have no doubt she’s a fighter, she’s your child.”</p><p>John smiles feebly, nodding. </p><p>They chat for a little more time, quickly updating each other on the state of both Dutch and French resistance until Richard interrupts them because it's time to move.</p><p>Grace says goodbye to her old friend, whom she hopes she will see again soon, because his job now is to help the Army conquer these bridges so as to successfully end Operation Market Garden and, who knows, maybe even the whole damn war.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just a small little thing: the man from the Dutch resistance was really called John, I didn't make that up, ha!<br/>As always thank you for reading &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Wounded</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always thank you to my fave person Angelica (hellitwasyoufirstsergeant on tumblr) for your support and your advices, ily ❤</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>There is a stake being hammered into Grace's lower back, the strikes radiating pain in a way that shatters her brain ⎯ or at least that's what it feels like. She's lying so still on a hard and cold surface, breathing shallow. She dares to open her eyes, but there's only dark, the stars in the night sky are hidden by clouds and fumes. All around her she hears voices and sees shadows of people walking around, blissfully unaware of the pain she endures.</p><p>After blinking a few times, Grace attempts to steady herself trying to comprehend what's going on around her and, especially, where the hell she is. </p><p>Slowly, she gets up. Her body feels as if it’s been bruised everywhere, her legs feel shaky and  she can't seem to support her body, yet her head is the only thing that's feeling heavy. A metallic taste almost makes her vomit.</p><p>But her back feels the worst. </p><p>Grace places her hands on the surface to support herself, while the pain is rushing through her body like an igniting fire: her eyes squeeze closed, her face contorts. Her head is spinning so hard that she falls once again. After what looks a lifetime, slowly the pain seems to fade away a little, sweat trickles down her face while her breathing slowly goes back to its normal rhythm. </p><p>Grace tries to stand up again, realising two things: she's on a truck, and there’s a dead body next to her.</p><p>
  <em> What the hell happened? </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>Twenty-four hours earlier…</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Why do we have to eat this shit, anyway?”</p><p>“Because if you don’t eat, you die, Perco.”</p><p>“I’d rather be dead than eat this thing, is it a biscuit? A piece of bread? Shrapnel?”</p><p>“We’ve been here for less than two days, stop complaining.”</p><p>With her back against a hay bale, Grace closes her eyes, inhaling the fresh chilly air of the night. Perconte shifts next to her, and she hears him chewing his food ration in silence: it’s true that K-rations are terrible, especially to one’s teeth, but it’s either that or starving. </p><p>She lets her head dangle to the right, smiling as she comes face to face with a sleeping Luz; his features are much softer when he sleeps, the lines that usually crease his brow are replaced by his true youthful appearance. In a world that’s anything but peaceful, he seems at peace. He seems innocent.</p><p>Grace wonders if she looks like that when she’s asleep.</p><p>“When did you get used to this?” Perconte asks after some time, breaking off her thoughts.</p><p>“To what?”</p><p>“<em> This, </em>” he remarks, gesturing all around him. “Sleepless nights, fear, shitty meals, the like.”</p><p>“I suppose you never get used to it, not really,” she replies, starting to tear off the grass from the ground for no apparent reason. “You just know in war there’s the wait, there’s boredom most of the time, there’s the fear that if you fall asleep you might not wake up. You just know. The moment you set foot into war you <em> know </em>that, you feel that, so what’s the point in complaining? It’s not that it’ll change things anyway.”</p><p>“Yeah, but you’re always so calm, so fearless.”</p><p>“Believe me, I’m not,” Grace answers, this time turning her head to Perconte. “People who say they’re fearless lie, mostly to themselves. You can’t be fearless in war, unless you’re not human. Yes, some people aren’t afraid to die, but believe me they get a little scared too sometimes. Like myself.”</p><p>After that, silence envelops them as Perconte weighs Grace's claims with caution and wonders how much truth there is in them. Grace understands, she really does, because years ago she asked Tardivat the same questions; she couldn't think how a person could ever get used to that messy, unpredictable, horrendous lifestyle. And he patiently explained to her the same thing she just said to Perconte, only with a few big words because Tardivat is much less brisk than she is. She remembers she had not believed him immediately, she was so adamant that she would never be able to get over a killing, to get used to sleepless nights waiting for the inevitable, to seeing friends die... Instead, against all her expectations, Grace had gotten used to it quickly.  Well, not get used to it, but accepting it. Acceptance has been Grace's primary defensive weapon from the very beginning.</p><p>“Is Luz still sleeping?” Perconte asks.</p><p>Grace snorts. “Yeah, he’s even starting to snore too.”</p><p>In fact, she can feel his heavy breathing, probably due to the position of his head lolling towards her. <em> Lucky him </em>, she thinks. And then she immediately feels guilty for even thinking about it, because he might seem at peace all wrapped in deep sleep, but Luz is obviously experiencing the same ugly situation as Grace, as all of them. The fact that he's always so inclined to cheer everyone up doesn't mean that he's not suffering too.</p><p>“I wish I could sleep that well, too.”</p><p>“Look,” Grace says, pointing at a couple of black shadows that are coming happily towards them, “asseholes approaching, so you can manage a couple of hours of sleep.”</p><p>“Now, explain to me how could I possibly manage to even fall asleep when Hoobler’s around,” Perconte protests and Grace chuckles a little, because he’s absolutely right. “Have you met him?”</p><p>“Sadly,” she lets out a small smirk as Hoobler reaches them, along with Webster. </p><p>Grace has always thought that the two of them are an unlikely pair: two people who, despite their opposite personalities, have found something in each other to hold on to. The most beautiful friendships come from the most bizarre pairings.They both have some kind of jars in their hands, she can't quite see what it is because of the dark.</p><p>“Look, olives!” Hoobler answers to her silent question a little bit too loud, holding the jar to Grace.</p><p>Luz jolts awake next to her. “Who’s Oliver?” he says with a hoarse voice that doesn’t suit him at all.</p><p>Everyone bursts out laughing and Luz, obviously confused, rubs his eyes and yawns, letting himself slide back onto the hay bale. Grace takes the jar of olives from Hoobler's hands, turning it over in hers.</p><p>“Where did you even get these? You stole from farmers again?” she asks, remembering the first day they arrived in Holland: she remembers him hopping between soldiers laid in the ditch, a couple of bottles of wine clutched in his hands and a satisfied smile on his face, claiming the Dutch put them on the windowsills of their farmhouse on purpose so they could help themselves.</p><p>“No!” he protests, offended. “The man who lives over there gave it to us.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Webster confirms. “Gotta love the Dutch.”</p><p>“He was so happy to see us, can you believe that? First thing he did was get us food and smokes,” continues Hoobler, sitting in front of Grace. “Of course van Klinken left with the smoke, the bastard.”</p><p>“Only because you said the Army doesn’t feed us much,” Webster clarifies, following his comrade onto the ground. “Pretty sure he pitied us.”</p><p>Grace hands over the olives to Perconte. “Here, Perco, so you can forget what K-rations taste like just for a moment.” He takes it from her and sighs, while everybody starts laughing. “What?”</p><p>“He’s allergic to olives,” Luz intervenes, his voice still raspy from sleep, but he’s smiling broadly.</p><p>She can't believe his bad luck, but also she can't help but laugh at Perconte's funny reaction, who just threw the olives directly at Hoobler's stomach. </p><p>“Seeing that kid eating chocolate for the first time, it was such a sad moment, but also such a joyful one to see the smile on his face,” Hoobler confesses when the laughter dies down a little. </p><p>“What’s this about?” Luz asks, his eyes still closed as if he’s trying to fall asleep once again.</p><p>“The farmer’s kid,” Webster starts explaining, lighting himself a cigarette. “I gave him my ration of chocolate. You shoulda seen the way he looked at me.”</p><p>“How nice of you, Web,” Grace observes, truly impressed. </p><p>He just shrugs. “I don’t really like chocolate, anyway.”</p><p>Grace suspects it's not true, that Webster only said it to try to hide his compassionate side; she doesn’t think there’s anything to be ashamed of, but apparently it's a common conduct among soldiers. Maybe they feel stronger, more powerful if they don't let their weaker side pass through.</p><p>“I’m gonna take a piss,” Luz announces then, placing a hand on Grace’s thigh to steady himself.</p><p>“Thank you for letting us know,” she comments, shaking her head. “I was just starting to worry.”</p><p>“Well, I’m flattered, Gracie.”</p><p>Grace ignores the others’ laughter and thinks that no one has ever called her that apart from Richard; it's always been exclusive to her childhood friend, but she finds she doesn't mind at all.</p><p>“Do you really think we’ll be home for Christmas?” Hoobler asks no one in particular. “Not gonna lie, I miss my mom’s stew. She makes it every Christmas, even though she knows very well that my sister Mary loathes it, and that each bite ends up in the flower pot instead of in her mouth.”</p><p>They all laugh at that, even if Grace feels a little bit saddened by his melancholy tone. It must be a very strong emotion to enjoy Christmas with a proper family. Grace doesn't know what that means, Christmas in her house had always been too much wine, occasional crying, no presents. Thinking about it, Grace doesn't understand why her parents never allowed her to go celebrate Christmas with Richard’s family. For one reason or another, Grace never got the chance to even celebrate the holiday in the past few years. The closest thing to a real Christmas she had happened two years back when she and Henri managed to have a hot meal in a hideout of the Dutch resistance.</p><p>“How’s she like? Your sister?” Grace asks softly. </p><p>“Oh, well, she looks like me, but with long hair,” he jokes, making Perconte and Webster smirk.</p><p>“What a beauty must be,” Perconte states, earning a kick from his friend. </p><p>“She is!”</p><p>“Do you have any other siblings?” Grace questions him again.</p><p>Hoobler nods. “A brother, John. We’re very close. What about you, Smarty?” Suddenly his face darkens, realising the gaffe he just made. In that moment, Hoobler had forgotten that Grace told him her story one night at the pub in Aldbourne. “I’m sorry, I forgot for a moment…”</p><p>“It’s okay, Hoob,” she reassures him. “Actually I’ve always wondered why my father hasn’t slept with other women just to have a son, a <em> true heir, </em>as he likes to call it. Perhaps the man’s too religious to even consider it.”</p><p>“Didn’t know you were religious.”</p><p>“They are,” Grace nods. “I’m not, never have been. My parents forced me to go to church when I was little, maybe that's why I always hated it, I wanted to annoy them. And then I guess I grew up and never cared, eventually. Richard tried, I went with his family a couple of times, but it's just not for me.”</p><p>“What’s not for you?” Luz inquires, dropping next to Grace. “A romantic movie night? A dinner with fancy food, roses and a gentleman? <em> Relaxing? </em>”</p><p>“Ah-ha, very funny,” she nudges him. “You moron. Could’ve drowned in your own piss, you’d done us a favour.”</p><p>“Woooo!”</p><p>“You’re a very good liar, you know that?” Luz scoffs, as she feels his gaze pinching her skin. Grace turns and stares at him, almost like a challenge. His gaze is still sleepy, but a sincere and slightly crooked smile greets her. She wishes she could restrain herself, but her body disagrees so she just snorts loudly before responding with a half laugh.</p><p>“Lying is part of my job, of course I’m good at it!”</p><p>“I wanna be a spy too,” Hoobler declares at some point, making everybody laugh.</p><p>He and Webster stay with them a little longer, then they decide to call it a night. According to Perconte's watch ⎯ Grace wonders if it's one of those stolen from the Germans' dead bodies on D-Day ⎯ it's almost three in the morning, and still she doesn't feel like sleeping. Perconte falls asleep as soon as the others leave; his snoring echoes in the chilly air after less than two minutes. </p><p>
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</p><p>Their journey to Helmond is all in all quite peaceful, the rumble of tanks and the chatter of the men are the only noises. They are traveling on the outskirts of Nuenen, when Grace notices with some surprise that they are passing right through a field full of purple and yellow flowers. It's a beautiful sight, it makes her momentarily forget the war. If Grace closes her eyes, she can also hear the birds chirping, their song mixing with the chatter of her comrades.</p><p>It’s a wonderful and surreal view, and she tries to savour it all before it’s too late.</p><p>They reach a small village, it's not even midday and there seems to be no one around. The sun shyly peeks through the clouds, as if to spy on their movements, when Grace hears Randleman's worried voice as the tank stops.</p><p>“What the hell is he doing?”</p><p>She turns to her right, having to crane her neck over Martin to try and see what’s happening. Ahead of them, Lieutenant Brewer is walking away from the tanks, evidently to better check the area. Not a very wise move, in Grace's opinion, because it makes him an easy target. Of course, there's no guarantee that Germans are hidden in this village, but one can never be too cautious.</p><p>As if he heard her thoughts, Hoobler says: “Makes quite a target, don’t he?”</p><p>“Lieutenant!” shouts Bull and Brewer turns to him.</p><p>Silence hangs in the air. The moment between when he turns at the call and when he gets hit in the neck seems to last an eternity. Within a few seconds, panzers and tigers emerge from nowhere.</p><p> “Clear the tracks! Move it! Get behind the tanks!”</p><p>With a quick jump, Grace gets off the tank and runs to take refuge in the ditch where all the men were already seeking protection. With a slide she slips between Martin and Garcia, rifle tight in hand, and wonders if from that position she could shoot down the German sniper.</p><p>"Come on, get in the ditch!"</p><p>Grace slowly raises her head to get a better look over the road, when she notices Bull crouched beside Brewer, fully exposed to the sniper's shots.</p><p>"Bull!" she cries, but she's sure he can't hear her in the midst of all the noise.</p><p>Her eyes move around, trying to follow the shooting, but from that position it’s almost impossible to see. They can't stay there much longer, it's too risky to engage in shooting from that position because the Germans have the advantage. All around her, continuous shots come from her comrades, aiming at those few Germans who managed to get out of the blazing tank. </p><p>“What should we do?” Garcia asks next to her. Grace searches for Randleman again, seeing him calling for a medic. They need to move as quickly as possible, being there they make easy targets and she's not very inclined to die in a goddamn ditch. Grace turns, searching for Martin at least, but he's far away, shooting at the men escaping the fuming panzer, when she hears Hashey.</p><p>“Keep calm. Stay still.” </p><p>What the actual <em> fuck </em>?</p><p>“What the fuck are you talking about?” she can’t contain herself. “We need to move! We’re fucking targets here, if we don’t get a move on we all be dead within the next few minutes!”</p><p>Hashey doesn’t move, he just stays there, frozen in place watching as the battle goes on. </p><p>“Keep moving! Get up! Keep moving!” Randleman finally appears then, screaming, taking Hashey from the collar and pushing him out the ditch. <em> Thank god, </em>Grace thinks, standing up. “Up and move! Move! Keep moving! They shoot at stationary targets! Move!”</p><p>As Grace runs next to Randleman, she notices in the corner of her eye Lieutenant Brewer still on the ground, his hands on his wound as a medic tries to fix him up.</p><p>“To the farmhouse! Deploy right!” instructs Randleman. </p><p>The echo of her own boots trampling the ground accompanies Grace as they run to seek shelter, a dog is barking in the distance yet the loudest sound is her breath. Not far away, orange flames and black smoke come out of a panzer, but still no trace of the Germans. Where the hell have they gone? Where were those who had been shooting them a moment ago?</p><p>Grace reaches the house and collapses near the wall, immediately joined by the rest of 1st Platoon. Randleman gives out instructions quickly, and a moment later Grace finds herself on the run once again, keeping up with Martin. They run through the ghostly village, a few houses are smoking from the missed shots fired by the British Cromwell tanks, and Grace suddenly feels sorry for all those innocent Dutch families who are going through all this. She knows that a large portion of Dutch people have cellars, and she wholeheartedly hopes these people have been able to find protection somewhere.</p><p>They advance about another fifty meters, finding shelter behind a barn. Grace almost bumps into Sisk from the speed at which she’s running.</p><p>“You see anything?” she asks him.</p><p>“No,” he says, “where the fuck did they go?”</p><p>“Fuck, let me see,” she shoves him away and takes his place: Grace holds her M1, eyes on the scope as she scans the ground around them carefully. She can see a woman at the window, pulling the curtains so hard she's surprised they haven't been ripped off, as if drawing the  curtains could protect her from mortar fire. “No one’s there, sarge.”</p><p>“Come on, let’s go,” says Martin.</p><p>They move again and again, an endless dance in search of nothing. This situation reminds her of her first battle with Easy Company, Grace remembers the feeling way too well. She had felt angry, alone, unwanted. Now it's different, she has her platoon at her side, she has non-commissioned officers to follow, she has a purpose, but she feels lost because she's not used to not knowing where to go. But the deeper they get into the village's empty heart, the more Grace thinks they're falling into a trap.</p><p>Grace sees Randleman crouched up next to a pillar, as she and the rest of the men approach a restaurant on the other side of the street, hiding on the veranda. She finds herself squeezed between Talbert and Peacock.</p><p>“Hey, Tab, fancy seeing you here,” she jokes, her heart still pounding heavily.</p><p>“Hey, peach,” he smirks. “Yeah well, just going for a stroll, ya know.”</p><p>Grace doesn't even pay attention to Talbert's answer, because at that moment Martin rushes next to her, followed by Heffron. The two reach the Cromwells and Martin climbs up the first one, but Grace can't see what’s happening. Her gaze meets Randleman’s, and he responds to her inquisitive look with signals, and she understands.</p><p><em> Shit </em>, Grace thinks. </p><p>Martin and Heffron are coming back and the British tanks resume their advance. </p><p>And then finally happens: a whistling sound echoes over their heads as a shot hit a British tank dead-on.</p><p>“Fall back!” Randleman yells to the men a few feet from him who are in range, starting to run himself.</p><p>Grace takes a deep breath and stands up, using the wooden bar as a cover as she starts shooting at the German tiger. If they have to stay there, might as well try and take down some Krauts.</p><p>“<em> I’m gettin’ corns for my Country, at the Hollywood canteen </em> ,” she starts singing, aiming the gunner's periscope of the tank, just as the tank detached a huge piece of the building opposite her. “ <em> The hardest workin' junior hostess you've ever seen.” </em></p><p>“Are you fucking singing?” Talbert calls to her.</p><p>“Indeed I am, Tab!”</p><p>Grace isn’t sure if she hit something or someone inside the tank, but in that moment the gun moves to them and she doesn’t think twice before surpassing the fuming tank in front of them. Grace hears a hail of gunfire in her direction: she runs, immediately finding herself next to Randleman, who has no helmet, trying to avoid the machine guns. </p><p>"Run!" he yells at her, a hand on her shoulder as if to guide her. "Run! Come on! Let's get out of the way!"</p><p>In that moment there's an enormous explosion. It's as though a fist of orange flame had decided to punch its way out of the building. Windows shatter. Smoke and fire rushes out. Thousands of pieces of glass and steel, a deadly rainfall, showers down. A huge bite had been taken out of the side and the roof of the building.</p><p>“This way!” Grace screams as she sees a way out of that giant cloud of black smoke.</p><p>Another rush of bullets flies over their heads, and it's truly a miracle that they got through that cloud of smoke and terror without even a scratch. Not even the time to think about it, suddenly a tank right next to them gets blasted Grace feels a stabbing pain in her back. She falls onto the ground, she's alone. Randleman is nowhere to be seen, but she’s quite sure she heard him calling for her. Her face twists in pain, Grace tries to get up but she can't. The pain spreads all over her back and leg. It doesn't take a genius to figure out she got hit, but it would take a genius or even a miracle to get her out of there. </p><p>As if someone heard her thoughts, the miracle truly appears out of nowhere: her sight has become blurred from pain, and her head is so painful that she can't even formulate a simple thought, but she's pretty sure that the name of that miracle is Carwood Lipton.</p><p>“Grace!” She thinks she hears him screaming, but the pain dulls the sound and she doesn’t understand anything anymore.</p><p>Grace feels her body being lifted and then everything gets dark.</p><p>
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  <em> What the hell happened? Where’s Bull? </em>
</p><p>Grace dares to look at the lifeless body of the soldier next to her but she doesn't recognise him. She finds herself feeling thankful, relieved that it wasn’t a friend<em> . </em>She brings a hand to her head, it aches tremendously. All around it's dark, her vision is hazy and her limbs seem to not want to respond to her command.</p><p>“Woah, easy, easy,” says someone, placing a hand on her shoulder, as gentle as his voice. “Let me check you up first.”</p><p>“Roe?” Grace asks.</p><p>“That’d be me,” Roe confirms, and she suddenly sees a light. “Now, look at me, please? Just like that.”</p><p>Grace feels blinded by that light, but she lets him do his job. Roe turns her over, which makes her squint in pain, and tries to collect all of her strength to keep from screaming. Grace doesn't remember ever having felt such immense physical pain, not even when she had been shot in the stomach years ago.</p><p>She feels Roe's hand stop fiddling with her uniform and especially with her wounded skin, so she takes the opportunity to try to get up again. With Roe’s help she finally manages to sit up, her legs dangling from the truck, but immediately she's forced to put her weight on the right side of her body.</p><p>“What happened?” she manages to mumble eventually.</p><p>Roe looks at her, then takes something from behind. “I took this out of your back earlier. Pretty nasty, if you ask me.”</p><p>Blinking a few times, Grace manages to recognise a splinter. A very large splinter. No wonder she feels such pain, that piece of metal is bigger than her hand.</p><p>“You, um…” Roe starts. “Can you kinda describe the level of pain?”</p><p>“There’s someone playing with a knife inside my body.”</p><p>“Right,” he says, lowering his gaze and fiddling with his bag. “I’m ought to believe the splinter severed your nerves, but I can’t be sure. If you feel pain in your leg, it’s very likely. Does it hurt?”</p><p>“No,” Grace lies. No way she will let them evacuate her for a goddamn splinter. “I feel a little numb, that’s all.”</p><p>“Good,” he says, nodding. “I suggest you drink some water, and then try to walk. You feel up to it?”</p><p>Grace nods, but she’s not sure she will be able to walk anytime soon. She takes a long sip from the canteen Roe held out to her, trying to figure out how to jump off the stationary truck.</p><p>“Why am I on a truck, anyway?”</p><p>“Sorry,” Roe apologises, “we have to make do with what we have.”</p><p>“Kid!” she hears Guarnere’s voice as he approaches the truck. “Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me out there. I saw Lip carrying you around like crazy and my heart skipped a couple of beats.”</p><p>“You’re in good hands, now,” Roe says, smiling. “If you ever need anything, you just ask for me.”</p><p>“Thanks, doc,” she says, her head still spinning.</p><p>“You feel okay?” Bill asks as soon as they’re alone.</p><p>“Yeah, kinda.” Grace doesn’t feel okay in the slightest but she also doesn’t want to worry her friends. “Thank you, Bill. For caring, for being here now.”</p><p>Guarnere motions his hand as if to shut her up. “No worries, Smarty. You’d do the same.”</p><p>She tries to smile, but the only attempt causes her a strong cough and she feels like a jolt coming from the wound all over her body. Then she suddenly remembers. “Where’s Bull?”</p><p>A thick silence falls upon them, Guarnere circles her with his arm. “Come on, let me help you get off this thing.”</p><p>She obeys, letting him gently bring her to the ground. As Grace's feet touch the grass, she immediately realises she won’t be able to walk on her aching leg for a while. She clings to Guarnere, casting him a look halfway between enraged and resigned.</p><p>“Where’s Bull?” Grace asks again, this time her look is firm and he’s not allowed to ignore it. “Bill?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he lets out a sigh. “We don’t know. Johnny said he saw you and Bull being hit, and Bull disappeared in a ditch. Lip said there was no one else around when he found you.”</p><p>“Shit,” she curses, passing a hand through her face. “I think I heard him calling for me… but I’m not sure.”</p><p>Grace feels tired, sore, angry, sad. There’s no way Bull Randleman is dead, no way. The man she knows is not that easy to break, but she also knows that that village is filled with Germans, so how can he possibly still be alive?</p><p>“Hoobler and Webster went to try and find him,” Guarnere replies, letting her go a little but still holding her hand so he will be ready when she inevitably falls. “A few other men tagged along too.” Grace tries to take a step forward but she simply can’t. “Come on, doll, I’ll take you. Captain Winters went nuts when he knew about you, I’ve never seen him like that.”</p><p>Grace huffs softly as he lifts her in his arms: she knows she shouldn't feel that way, but she's terribly ashamed of having to be carried in his arms. She knows it's stupid and unrealistic, but she hopes no one will watch them pass. </p><p>She wraps her arms around Guarnere's neck, sinking her face into his chest. Grace finds herself thinking that this is the first time she’s hugged someone since that day when they had just come back from Normandy and Tardivat was waiting for her. She had never particularly enjoyed that kind of physical contact, nor getting emotional, but she finds she doesn't mind it at all in that moment. She doesn't know why, but Grace feels safe, protected, and it even manages to ease some of the physical pain. Guarnere doesn't smell good at all, obviously, like everybody else including her, but the scent of his new uniform mixed with his own skin and smoke, helps her relax for a moment.</p><p>“Where the hell is Winters gone?” whispers Guarnere, mostly to himself.</p><p>“Grace!”</p><p>A joyful scream echoes in the air, but she realises it isn’t Richard. Grace hears the footsteps getting closer and closer, so she forces herself to look, thus abandoning that almost comfortable position even if she thought at first to pretend to be asleep so as not to have to answer the inevitable questions. As soon as she realises who's coming towards them, she doesn't regret even for a moment that she had decided to look.</p><p>“Skip!” Grace chirps, sincerely happy to see her friends are okay. “Hey, Malark. Guys, I’m so happy to see you.”</p><p>“Not as happy as us!” Malarkey almost shouts. “We were dragging Buck away from the field, when we saw Lip shoving everyone who was in his way, with your body covered in blood in his arms. You scared the hell out of us.”</p><p>Grace stopped listening at ‘Buck’. “What happened to Buck?”</p><p>“The lucky bastard,” Muck smirks, shaking his head. “One bullet, four holes.”</p><p>“Holy shit, is he okay?”</p><p>“Yeah, got evacuated. We should start taking count of all the people who get shot in the ass.”</p><p>“Any other casualties?” Grace asks, fearing the answer.</p><p>This time it’s Guarnere’s turn to answer. “Yeah, a few. Miller, that replacement, got a direct hit, killed instantly. Van Klinken got a round of bullets and he died. Poor guy.”</p><p>Grace doesn’t know what to say: both Miller and Van Klinken were from her platoon. She didn’t know them very well, but hearing about their deaths makes her even sadder and angrier.   </p><p>And Randleman is still missing.</p><p>“Thought it was only old men and children,” Malarkey comments sarcastically.</p><p>“My ass,” is Muck’s answer, and she can’t help but agree. “Old men and children, home by Christmas… what else?”</p><p>From a distance, Grace hears explosions coming from the east. Her gaze moves towards the noise and finds the sky has turned a horrible colour, a dull black due to smoke that makes her skin crawl, with a creepy orange reflection.</p><p>As if he hears her thoughts, Muck says: “Krauts are bombing Eindhoven. Can’t believe just this morning they cheered us with flags and pastries, and now this.”</p><p>Grace’s thoughts go immediately to John and the rest of the Dutch resistance.</p><p>“Listen, kid, you’re not that heavy, but not that lightweight either,” Guarnere states soon after, making her scoff. “Have you seen Captain Winters? I’m gonna take Smarty to him, you’ll have plenty of time to harass her later.”</p><p>Both Muck and Malarkey laugh, gesturing towards a truck not far.</p><p>“Jesus Christ, I’ll have to tell Luz you’re awake,” Muck says as they start walking, shaking his head. “He was so worried earlier, he thought you were dead. Gene had to send him away, he looked awful.”</p><p>“Please, Skip, tell him I’m okay. Please,” Grace breathes out. She feels so bad for Luz, for leaving him so scared. “Gonna talk to Richard and then I’ll meet up with you guys later, promise.”</p><p>“Yeah, you all come take her, though,” Guarnere complains, fixing her better in his arms. </p><p>“Oh, just drop it,” Grace laughs.</p><p>“I’ll drop you.”</p><p>Guarnere finally manages to take Grace to Richard, who almost cries out for joy at seeing her. She tells him everything that happened that day, from the beginning of the battle to the moment she was wounded and lost sight of Randleman. Apparently, according to Richard, she was the last to see him, except she didn't see him at all: one moment they were together, running. The next she was shot, but there was no sign of the sergeant. He had vanished into thin air.</p><p>Grace tells him what Roe told her about her injury, omitting the fact that her leg hurts, saying she can't walk momentarily just because the leg is numb. Richard tries to persuade her to be evacuated, but almost immediately gives in to Grace's protests. She has no idea how she's going to fight, not with her wounded leg and the piercing pain in her back, but she also knows she won't be evacuated for anything in the world. </p><p>They find a compromise, eventually: Grace will spend at least a week at the field hospital up north, and if she gets better she can return to her platoon. </p><p>Otherwise, England, and that’s that.</p><p>For the rest of the night, Grace can't sleep. She's dazed by the day that had just passed, still not believing she managed to get through it alive. Her mind is focused on Randleman, but Hoobler and Webster have not yet returned from their patrol, and that worries her too. A thought goes to Miller and van Klinken: the sun will still shine and the wind will still blow, but somewhere their mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters will wait in vain for them.</p><p>At least there are her friends to make her feel some way better, who are sleeping around her right now.</p><p>Luz went crazy the moment he saw her: he didn't even give Richard time to lay her in the foxhole, he right away attacked her with a hug that almost made her gag with pain. He apologised a thousand times, but Grace was fine with it anyway. Deep down, she's glad her friends worry a little about her, because it means they really care.</p><p>Muck and Malarkey made her a sort of makeshift bed made out of their jackets, to make her feel more comfortable. Lying down obviously hurts her less, but the pain is always hiding there around the corner, and she hopes that she will recover all her strength soon. </p><p>Grace puts a hand under her cheek, trying to find comfort in that annoying position. The scent of the damp grass tickles her nostrils, but it doesn't bother her at all.</p><p>With Luz's soft snoring beside her, Grace wonders if the war will ever end. How many people will be taken from her? After everything Grace has been through and done, despite everything she thought and hoped years ago, she feels weaker than ever; she feels helpless, she feels useless, she feels angry. She has spent years fighting the Nazis and she has succeeded many times, but at what price? They say the war could be over by Christmas, and she really wants to hope it will, because she just wants to rest.</p><p><em> War </em>. A three-letter word that can obliterate everything. Wars tear people apart, turn them into monsters. Wars put barricades between brothers, they drive people insane. They make people look over their shoulder even in the safest places.</p><p>It’s war, and Grace chose it.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello! I hope you liked this one :)<br/>I just wanted to say that Hoobler and Webster were besties in real life and it's so sad that they didn't show it in the tv show! So I'm try and give them justice eheh<br/>have a lovely day!</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Mad Russian</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you so much Angelica for your constant support and for beta reading this chapter! stick with me until the end for some curious info about this chapter :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>After dreadful clouds covering it for weeks, finally the sun is bright and early. Its rays, like fingers stretching across the darkened sky, bring with it a new day. Gradually, the sun fills the sky with its brilliance and a warm glow, unveiling the world from the blanket of the night.</p><p>The first thing that Grace sees the moment Liebgott and Talbert load her up on a truck, is none other than Bull Randleman.</p><p>The warmth she feels in her heart in that moment is something she can’t quite describe. All night she hoped that he would find a way back one way or another, or that her friends who had gone looking for him would bring him back. She couldn't get it out of her head that it was all her fault, she had led him near the tank that got blasted. Grace couldn't have known it was there but that didn’t stop her thoughts. If they only kept running to the other side… maybe Randleman wouldn't have been forced to spend the night surrounded by enemies, wounded, fearing the worst. Maybe Grace's leg would work normally now. </p><p>Maybe.</p><p>When she woke up that morning, she felt more feverish than ever. In the light of dawn, Luz got so frightened by her pallor that he got pale himself, and Grace acknowledges it mirrored her inner state because she really felt dreadful. Her leg was still sore, but she still wanted to walk to the truck by herself, even though both Liebgott and Talbert followed her to help her.</p><p>“Holy shit, is that the Bull?” Liebgott says out loud, a big, surprised smirk appearing on his face.</p><p>“It’s him,” Talbert smiles, hopping on the truck.</p><p>Randleman comes closer, followed by Guarnere: he’s only wearing his vest, a bandage wrapped around his upper body, but other than that he seems fine.</p><p>“Bull,” Grace says feebly, giving him a sad smile. “I’m really glad you’re back, I was so worried.”</p><p>“Told you he’d be back in no time, kid,” Guarnere comments, helping him to get on the truck.</p><p>“Actually, you didn’t.”</p><p>“Oh well, must’ve said to someone else, then,” he shrugs, earning some laughs.</p><p>Randleman adjusts himself next to Grace and gives her a tired smile. He circles her with an arm and gently places a kiss on her head, resting his cheek on her hair a little. Once, Grace would have shoved him off right away, but not now. She still feels chills whenever someone touches her, but not as bad as before.</p><p>She just stays there.</p><p>“I’m glad you made it too, kid,” Randleman says as the engine comes to life. “I couldn’t see you from that ditch, I just hoped you made it through. I tried to call you, but I had that tank up my ass, couldn’t go back… I couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole night.” </p><p>“It’s fine, sarge,” Grace reassures him. “If anything… it’s me who has to apologise, I feel like it’s my fault.”</p><p>“Nonsense! It’s war, kid.” Randleman releases Grace from the hug, reaching for a cigar in his pocket. “Bill told me about your wound, you okay?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she lies. “My leg’s a little bit… useless, at the moment. But I’m gonna be okay.”</p><p>“You sure? You seem pretty sick, corporal,” Randleman observes, studying her from head to toe.</p><p>Grace nods, trying to give him a reassuring smile. The truck drives off, the potholes in the road make the drive bumpy, causing Grace to whine every time the wheels hit them. </p><p>Her gaze is then captured by Richard, who's observing her from afar. She knows that he's worried, if it had been up to him she would have been sent back to England by now. Grace just gives him a faint smile, earning back a nod of the head. </p><p>Welsh isn’t stood far from the departing truck, but he doesn’t notice it leaving, although Grace continues to look at him all the same.Last night, before Richard took her to Luz and Muck’s foxhole, Welsh had dropped by to give Richard a couple of notices, and to ask if he had any news about Grace. Seeing her there he almost jumped for joy. He spent some time with Grace, talking about this and that and confessed that he misses getting into trouble with his boys. Grace doesn't mince words, so she told him how things really are, that they all miss him too and that Peacock is fine, but... but it's not the same. </p><p>Lipton came to check on her soon after, seriously worried about her state. He told her that he had been terrified when he saw her body there, bleeding on the ground, that he hadn't thought twice before carrying her on his back and taking her to the medics. He told her he was afraid she would bleed to death because she was losing so much blood that they were leaving a trail. His concern touched Grace, although it surprised her a little because, although she knew he cared for his men, she hadn’t realised just how much he had cared for her. </p><p>“Does it hurt?” Grace asks then, pointing at Randleman’s bandage.</p><p>He shakes his head. “Just a scratch on the shoulder. I’ve been lucky. More than you, apparently.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I refuse to let this get to me,” she kind of protests, being angry with her bad luck rather than with someone in particular. Her wound is angry too, it's pulsing so hard it makes her wince and close her eyes for a moment. “I got a purpose, I wanna watch Nazis fall with my own eyes, been craving that for years. I wanna go back to my father, showing him my worn-out but alive face, my endless scars, so he can finally admit he’s been a piece of shit all along. I won’t let this wound take that away from me.”</p><p>The boys are obviously impressed by her determination, because they stay silent for a while, even though she feels their curious gazes on her.</p><p>“Hey, Grace.” A self-satisfied smirk is playing across Talbert lips and she just knows he’s about to say something mischievous. “Next time try to say a tiny prayer rather than singing songs while Krauts are shooting at you. Maybe it’ll help you achieve all that.”</p><p>“Tab,” she starts, raising a brow at Talbert’s laughter, “all of my friends who used to say prayers in battle are in the ground, and I’m still here. For now. So thanks, but I think I’m gonna stick to The Andrews Sisters for now, since I don’t believe in God anyway!”</p><p>“It’s just weird,” he shrugs.</p><p>“Weirder than Shifty reciting Churchill’s speech before each jump?” Sisk comments, and everybody’s laughing now. “I don’t think so.”</p><p>“Wait, really?” Grace asks. Laughing causes a sharp pain in her wound, so she tries to mask her grimace with a smile. Clearly she’s unsuccessful because Randleman is now looking at her suspiciously.</p><p>“Our Churchill, which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, in earth as it is in heaven,” Sisk entertains them, mimicking a low, theatrical voice.</p><p>“Seriously, Skinny? You kill the man just like that?” Talbert opposes, tossing him his empty pack of cigarettes which unfortunately falls on Grace's head.</p><p>Sisk just shrugs. </p><p>“Hey, silly,” Grace addresses Talbert, “next time we’re in combat you follow my songs. You’ll see.”</p><p>“Think about getting your leg back, <em> silly,” </em> he retorts. “Then I might.”</p><p>A slight smirk forms on Grace’s lips. Talbert is right: she has to do whatever it takes to regain control of her leg and consequently her ability to fight effectively. If that means spending a week or two in the field hospital taking medicine and rest, she's ready to do it.</p><p>Grace looks at Randleman. “Hey, let me take a shot,” she says, pointing at the cigar.</p><p>He blinks at her for a moment, before pulling it out of his mouth and handing it to Grace. She brings the cigar to her lips and savors the strong and slightly woody taste of the cigar, blowing the smoke through her nose.</p><p>She hands it back to Randleman.</p><p>“You didn’t cough,” he notices, raising a brow. “Usually everyone coughs the first time they try cigars.”</p><p>“It wasn’t my first,” she says. “Henri used to smoke cigars. Indian cigars, from Uraiyur, just like Shifty’s best friend, Winston Churchill.”</p><p>“Your husband treated himself well,” Sisk comments. </p><p>Grace smiles sadly. “He did.”</p><p>
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</p><p>It’s been four days since Grace has been wounded and her leg is still giving her trouble. It’s nothing like the first couple of days, when she couldn’t even stand by herself without feeling like fainting. Now her leg is numb, it’s like it’s just not there and Grace feels dopey all the time. </p><p>On the bright side, the surgeon at the hospital says that he doesn’t think any nerves have been severed by the splinter so she will be able to walk almost normally soon. Grace hopes he’s right, partly because she can't help but feel useless, bored, anxious. Easy Company must have reached Veghel by now, and she's worried she's not able to be with them. She keeps telling herself that these rest days will help her to fight her best in the future when they will need her. It's hard, and Grace hates the waiting, but it's the only possible solution.</p><p>Grace had enjoyed her sergeant's company while it lasted. In fact, Randleman was sent back to join his men after a couple of days. She managed to scrounge some books, but she's not really in the mood to read. </p><p>Every now and then she finds herself playing cards with the man in the cot next to her, a certain Peter Baranowski, a lieutenant in Dog Company who ended up in the hospital with kidney stones. He’s likeable, maybe it’s because of the funny mustache, and he’s a little odd too. He told Grace that his men call him The Mad Russian and when she asked him why he just shrugged and gave her a meaningful look. Peter told Grace many things about himself, but what struck her most was that he parachuted into the Netherlands with a dog, a trained German Shepherd named Jaint de Montmorency. A peculiar name for a peculiar dog, who, Peter tells her, is the only one who made a combat jump in Europe with the American forces so far.</p><p>One night Grace can’t manage to fall asleep, the wound throwing small shocks down her back that keep her awake. As if that isn’t enough, her head is full of thoughts, a mass of emotions and sensations. On top of those stands Luz. Grace can’t take off her mind his expression from the day after the battle, his skin pale as the moonlight just because she was feverish and aching. Luz had been scared for her and Muck had told her that Luz looked awful when Lipton brought in her motionless body. </p><p>Luz is one of her favorite people in the whole world. She can have a laugh with him, she can argue, she can talk about serious matters without ever feeling judged or uncomfortable. The fact that he was so worried that day, worried about losing her, is new to Grace. She knows what it's like to risk losing someone or even losing them permanently, and the fact that he has those horrible feelings because of her... it's only been a few days and she can't help but miss him terribly.</p><p>Grace turns over in bed for the umpteenth time, unable to find a comfortable position. Evidently she must have snorted a little louder, because she hears her cot neighbor huffing under his breath.</p><p>“Can’t sleep, corporal?”</p><p>Grace pouts in the darkness. “Nope,” she whispers so as not to wake the other men. “Can’t stop these thoughts.”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s always like this when you spend time only with yourself.”</p><p>“I hate it.”</p><p>“I know,” Peter says and she hears him shifting in his cot. “Our mind is our own worst enemy, after all.”</p><p>Grace thinks a lot about that phrase, over and over again she hears his voice in her head repeating those words. She might have been silent for too long because he speaks again.</p><p>“Why are you here?”</p><p>“Got hit by an exploding tank, already told you that.”</p><p>“No,” he says, “here. With the Airborne. Getting nasty wounds when you could be home safe and sound. More or less.”</p><p>“I don’t have a home, lieutenant,” Grace explains sadly. “My home has been taken away by my own family. It’s because of my father that I’m here. It’s a long story.”</p><p>“It seems like we have a lot of time,” Peter smirks feebly. </p><p>“Perhaps it’s for another day, Mad Russian,” she sighs, shifting on her side. “Can I ask you a question?”</p><p>“Shoot.”</p><p>“How do you guys manage to parachute dogs?” She queries. “Do you put a harness on them and throw them out of the plane? Poor thing, don’t they suffer?”</p><p>Peter laughs, Grace hopes he didn’t wake anyone.</p><p>“Oh, man, sure we don’t! Yes, we put a harness on them, but we attach it to our gear. Dogs jump with us, how could they open the chute by themselves?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she says, feeling suddenly stupid. “Maybe you instruct them to do that. As it seems, they’re more intelligent than some men.”</p><p>Peter laughs again, clearly entertained by Grace's lack of knowledge. </p><p>“You’re an interesting one, soldier,” he tells her. “You definitely entertained me during my stay here, I couldn't have asked for better. Maybe one day you’ll tell me your story.”</p><p>“Maybe,” she answers, thinking that it’s the first time that someone tells her she’s entertaining<em> . </em>She has heard so many things about herself, but entertainment has never been on the list.</p><p>Peter leaves the field hospital the next day, and she feels alone again, helpless. But that doesn't last long because, after about ten days spent in bed, when Grace tries for the umpteenth time to convince the doctor to discharge her, she finds him in agreement.</p><p>“Well,” the doctor says, checking on her temperature, “I’d suggest spending a few days more here, but if you’re so keen on going back to your rifle, I don’t see why not.”</p><p>“Thank you, doc.”</p><p>“The wound’s healing well, the leg seems to have found its purpose again,” he continues. “Your temperature is fine,” he puts the thermometer away. “I’m gonna be honest with you, miss, you’ve been very lucky this splinter didn’t sever your nerves or it’d have taken surgery and months to heal, or might never have healed at all. But, since you’re managing to walk and the wound doesn’t bother you anymore, I don’t see the point in keeping you here.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Grace says again.</p><p>“Also, I’m under the impression you’d go AWOL if I was to forbid you from going back to combat once again, so, to hell with it.”</p><p>Grace gives him an innocent smile, watching as he walks away from her bed. It’s true she finally feels better. She can walk ⎯ although she’s still struggling a little because there’s still some stiffness as she has been stuck in bed for a long time ⎯ and the wound is healing quite well, it pinches a little but nothing unbearable. A few days earlier she had asked the doctor if he would show it to her with a mirror. It's a fairly large cut, at least four inches and she expected nothing less given the size of the splinter Roe had shown her that night, but the cut is deep enough and Grace is sure that it will leave a permanent scar.</p><p>The happy smile with which she had left the field hospital doesn't last long, fading more and more as the truck carries her and a couple of other soldiers north to Uden. The road is a mess, the signs of battle evident like a black cloud that foretells rain. </p><p>Grace begins to wonder what she will find at her destination.</p><p>When they reach Uden after endless hours of Grace's tension escalating, she’s met by Welsh.</p><p>“Harry!” she exclaims, waving at him.</p><p>Taken by surprise, Welsh runs up to her and before Grace can say a word, she finds herself squeezed into his arms.</p><p>“You’re back, you menace!” he stutters, a mop of her hair in his mouth. “How are you?”</p><p>“I’m good, finally,” Grace says happily, freeing herself from the hug. “What about you guys? I heard you’ve met hell up here.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, we’re alive, at least,” Welsh informs her. “I’ll take you to Dick, come on, can you walk?”</p><p>Grace nods and follows him inside the building. It doesn’t take them much to find Richard and to realise he’s not alone; the room is filled with men she doesn’t know, except for him, Nixon, Strayer and Sink. Swallowing, Grace approaches the men, Welsh still by her side, a grin plastered on his face.</p><p>“Look who’s back from the dead,” Nixon exclaims when he sees her. “You look fantastic, to say the least.”</p><p>Grace shakes her head with a cackle, feeling all but fantastic. The others follow Nixon’s gaze and find her, standing straight just a few feet away.</p><p>“Grace!” Richard cries a little bit too loud, coming closer as if he wants to envelop her in a hug but suddenly remembering he’s with two of his superiors. “How are you? Didn’t expect you here so soon.”</p><p>“Sir,” Grace gives the men the salute. “I’m feeling better, Captain Winters, thank you. If you allow me, I’d like to go back with the men.” </p><p>“Corporal Whitehead,” Sink steps closer. “I’m glad we met again. I’ve been told you were seriously wounded in Nuenen.”</p><p>“Not as seriously as we thought, apparently, sir,” she replies. “Thankfully.”</p><p>Colonel Sink nods, giving her a formal smile. “Well, welcome back, then. Captain Winters was just about to go brief his men.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir,” Grace says, then moves her look to Strayer. “Sir.”</p><p>“Grace, are you sure you’re ready to come back?” Richard asks her once they’re out of the house, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “Isn’t it too soon?”</p><p>“Oh, come on, Dick,” Nixon intervenes, “look at her, she’s fine.”</p><p>“I’m fine, Rich, promise,” Grace reassures him, resting her hand on his. “The doctor said I could go, so if he says so… the wound wasn’t as bad as it seemed, I promise.”</p><p>Grace follows the men to a car, watching as Richard jumps into the driver's seat. She sits in the back, along with Welsh, and she feels calmer now.</p><p>“How are the men?”</p><p>“You’ll see for yourself in a bit,” Nixon replies loudly, so she can hear him over the roar of the engine and the motion of the wind. “Let’s say they’ve seen better days.”</p><p>The journey proceeds silently, mainly because they have to scream to be understood. After a while they reach a farm, Grace notices some soldiers wandering around, weapons in hands: she also notices foxholes all around, all muddy because it had been raining for a week straight.</p><p>Grace exits the jeep carefully, helped by Welsh.</p><p>“Harry, Lew, gather the lieutenants and meet me here, I’m gonna take Grace inside to get warm a little,” Richard instructs, and the men nod.</p><p>“See you around, guys,” Grace says.<br/>“It’s nice having you back, H,” Welsh salutes her and then they walk away. “The men are lost without your wit.”</p><p>She lets out a small laugh as she follows Richard up to a barn, and can’t help but notice that walking on soft surfaces doesn’t bother her like walking on concrete and stone although she still feels a few little tremors every now and then.</p><p>“Luckily there are loads of farms in this area,” Richard says, eyeing her every so often. “At least the men can shelter in the barns when it’s raining. It was… challenging, these past few days, but we managed to take Veghel and Uden.”</p><p>“That’s good, I was just about to ask you how this ‘old men and kids mostly’ mission is going.”</p><p>Richard smirks a little. “Not so well, if I’m being honest. It looks like it’s a waste of time. And men.”</p><p>“I figured.”</p><p>The door of the nearest barn slams open, revealing a slouching figure that takes a moment to notice her.</p><p>“Grace!” Liebgott shouts, walking towards her with open arms and practically tearing her away from Richard with a mumbled apology and leading her back to the barn. Grace gives Richard an apologetic look and follows her friend inside, greeted by a total chaos.</p><p>The barn is quite small but filled with soldiers, and she immediately feels the warmth of home. </p><p>“Hey fellas, look who’s back!” Liebgott shouts and almost every head turns to her.</p><p>“Son of a bitch!” she hears Webster say happily, slamming the cards on the table and going to meet her. “How about you don’t scare us like that anymore, eh?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry, Harvard, next time I’ll tell the Krauts to aim a little further.”</p><p>“<em> Grace! </em>” someone yells and a second later she feels attacked by two pairs of arms who she instantly recognises as Muck and Malarkey. “You’re here,” Muck mumbles into her neck.</p><p>Grace squeezes them closer and in that moment she realises how much she needed that hug. Malarkey and Muck are her best friends there, and she’s never even hugged them.</p><p>They both pull away and survey her, making sure she's genuinely okay. They look happy and relieved and Grace finally feels at home, as if she’s been away for months.</p><p>Grace feels a hand tapping on her shoulder and she turns around, still smiling, facing Luz. His gaze is steady and composed, strange by his standards, and Grace isn't used to seeing his features so tense. Then all of a sudden a smile spreads on his lips, unable to hold back. Grace sighs in relief and doesn't think twice before throwing herself on him. The hug lasts longer than it should, Grace doesn't remember the last time she hugged someone for so long, but she finds that she doesn't mind at all. His hug is so strong and, as if holding her wasn't quite enough, he holds her tighter against his body as if he doesn’t want to let her slip away. In that moment of feeling Luz so close, she feels  more alive than she has felt in so very long. There are times when she wants to be safe within walls, protected. That's what she feels. It has always helped her so far. It is now such an odd feeling to Grace to crave for those arms wrapped around her every chance she can get. </p><p>Grace immediately detaches from Luz almost as if he had shocked her. She gives him a gentle smile, then she moves her gaze to the ground.</p><p>“Who’s the happiest person to have you finally back?” Luz exclaims.</p><p>“Me,” Muck says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close, gently rubbing her arm. </p><p>“Probably me, though” Grace scoffs. “Is there coffee by any chance? It was so watery at the hospital I stopped drinking on day two. Haven’t had any caffeine for ages.”</p><p>With his arm still around her, Muck accompanies Grace to the nearest table, followed by both Malarkey and Luz. Grace sits next to Gordon, who gives her a big smile.</p><p>“Oi, you!”</p><p>“Hey, Smokey. I’m glad to see you.”</p><p>“Don’t tell me,” he says. “How was the hospital? They treated you well?”</p><p>“It was… an experience.”</p><p>“Well, give us details,” Luz slides himself between her and Gordon. </p><p>“A lot of dysentery, blood, puking,” she answers, smiling up at Muck who just handed her a mug. “Other than that, the usual boredom. Oh, actually, I met someone really interesting.”</p><p>It's as if Grace had just said 'Heil Hitler', and she suddenly finds herself with four inquisitive and confused looks on her.</p><p>“Someone interesting?” Luz stammers.</p><p>“Yeah, a lieutenant in Dog Company, they call him The Mad Russian,” Grace explains happily. “He’s nice, we played cards sometimes and he parachuted with his dog. I didn’t even know the Airborne did that.”</p><p>“Talbert has a dog too, now,” says Luz.</p><p>“Since when?”</p><p>“Dunno, he found it a couple of days ago. Called him Trigger.”</p><p>“Wait,” Muck narrows his eyes, “The Mad Russian... is he that Balasnowiz guy from HQ?”</p><p>“Baranowski,” Grace corrects him. “From D Company, but he also worked at Battalion HQ in communications.”</p><p>“A dog in Dog Company? Hilarious. Genius, even,” Gordon comments, earning a nudge from Luz.</p><p>“Right,” Muck says.</p><p>“You know him?”</p><p>“No, not personally,” Muck explains, taking a sip from his own coffee. “Alton is friends with a guy from his platoon, when you said he has a dog it just clicked. He told me he crossed swords with Speirs, once.”</p><p>“Jeez, the guy’s brave!” Malarkey says, amazed.</p><p>“Or stupid,” Luz snickers. “Lieutenant Speirs scares me.”</p><p>Grace chuckles, finding herself in complete agreement with that statement. She still remembers the time in Carentan when Speirs stopped her to compliment her on the battle and commented on her then-new scar, which was now gone. Now she has an even bigger, more impressive one, so the next time he asks about her scars, she will have an interesting one to tell him about.</p><p>At that moment the door swings open violently, revealing Guarnere, Toye and Heffron who don't wait even a second before rushing in her direction.</p><p>“Where’s my kid?” Guarnere exclaims with open arms, even though he had seen her the moment he stepped inside. “Joe came telling us our Smarty is back!”</p><p>“Indeed I am, Bill,” Grace smiles as he places a light kiss on her head. “And glad to be.”</p><p>“Grace, welcome back,” Toye salutes her, sitting next to Malarkey. “Oh, give me some of that coffee, Don, can’t keep my eyes open.”</p><p>“Thanks, Joe, I’m so glad to be back.”</p><p>“Ain’t you gonna miss your lieutenant?” Muck asks, winking. </p><p>Grace looks heavenward. “I don’t have to marry him, Skip, he’s just one of the many soldiers I’ve met.”</p><p>“What lieutenant?” Heffron asks curiously, stealing Gordon’s mug. </p><p>“He’s from D Company, he was at the hospital with me and we played cards, that’s all,” she explains patiently, wondering why they’re making it a big deal when it’s not. </p><p>“Just admit that you’re impressed by him,” Luz encourages her.</p><p>“I’m impressed by his dog, actually,” Grace clarifies, rolling her eyes again. “Will you stop being jealous, for Chrissake.”</p><p>“Sorry, can’t help it,” he smiles, giving her a wink and then he starts singing. “<em> Only forever, if someone should ask, how long would it take me, to be near if you beckon? </em>”</p><p>Grace glances away, an odd smile on her face. “I won’t beckon, be sure of that.”</p><p>“Ouch, my heart,” Luz complains, placing a hand on his chest  while the others are laughing at his expression.</p><p>“I can’t believe you’re trying to woo me with Bing Crosby.”</p><p>The whole table erupts with laughter, including Grace. It's so good to be back, she missed all of this. Her stay in the hospital hadn't been all that bad, but it was nothing compared to this. She had missed the squabbles, she had missed the flirting, and just their company in general.</p><p>They were still there by late afternoon: Muck, Malarkey, Luz and Gordon got into an arm wrestling tournament and she along with Guarnere, Heffron and Toye did nothing but harass them jokingly. Grace hates war, but at times like these she wishes it would never end. For this alone, for these simple but unforgettable moments that she's sure would never happen in another context.</p><p>They are her brothers, for better or worse. That bond is a union of souls, a feeling that to lose each other would be worse than death. They are the ones who carry her soul beneath the gruffness and often crude humour. Whatever comes, they all know they would be there for one another. That reliability, that trust, builds them and sustains them. </p><p>It's there, in that smelly and damp barn, not fully healed and with concern for the coming months, that Grace is convinced that she has finally found the family she never had.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hey you!<br/>First, I hope you liked this chapter as much as I liked writing it! I know it's quite filler, but I'm proud of it.<br/>So, PETER BARANOWSKI was a real person! He was a Lieutenant in Dog Company and served in HQ for some time (I don't know when or how much because sadly there ain't many info about him) and YES he parachuted with the dog! The story it's true, and I was so impressed when I discovered it that I had to put it.  The dog, Jaint de Montmorency, has been truly the only dog who made a combat jump in Europe during WWII. Obviously I made up the kidney stones thingy, I just needed an excuse for Grace to meet him at the hospital. Sorry, man :D<br/>Thank you for reading!</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Twenty One Souls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you Angie for beta reading this chapter, i love you so much duegfuewbfbfej &lt;3</p>
<p>SO, the wonderful, amazing, talented <b>Amy</b> (stressedinadress on tumblr!) made moodboards for Hélène and I wanted to share it with you because they're AMAZING! I can't stop looking at them, she captured Grace and the whole fic so well she left me in awe. <a href="https://stressedinadress.tumblr.com/post/632405544821538817/h%C3%A9l%C3%A8ne-by-wecomrades-grace-whitehead-code">YOU CAN FIND THEM HERE</a> , please go check them! And give Amy some love &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<p>It's the second of October by the time Easy Company moves out again.</p>
<p>There was a time, in Normandy, where Grace hated that they were made to move all the time. They didn't even give the men time to secure the town that they already had to leave again. It was probably due to the fact that initially she was looking forward to returning to England, she had nothing to do with the airborne and their operations - other than delivering intelligence. Now Grace is happy to move, she's happy to get on a truck that will bring her and her comrades closer to the conquest of Berlin and therefore the end of the Nazi reign of terror.</p>
<p>The trucks bring them to an area situated between two rivers, the Waal and the Rhine, framed on all sides by canals and high dikes. Once they reach the area, Grace discovers they call it The Island, and she comes to the conclusion that they couldn't give it a more appropriate name to that eerie place.</p>
<p>Their job is to relieve the positions held by the British 43rd Wessex Infantry Division. As soon as they arrive they find themselves digging foxholes all along the dike, about six miles from the German line that's situated right over the Rhine. Grace has a feeling that these foxholes would be their home for quite some time.</p>
<p>For the next couple of days, Richard had alternated Easy Company platoons as to have two on the front line and one as a reserve in the nearest town where he set up the CP, and sent patrols during the night. Leaving the foxholes during the day was a suicidal mission as the enemy would shell the area at the sign of any movement.</p>
<p>All in all Grace is glad to be back on track. Of course, shelling over her head every so often isn't the best way to spend the day, but at least it manages to keep her busy and so she doesn't have time to drown in her thoughts. She was convinced her leg was going to give her trouble, but she feels better than she hoped. The sporadic little shocks continue to haunt her and she's convinced they will do so for a while longer, but at least she can walk quite unbothered.</p>
<p>That night is quiet, Grace had spent a good half an hour playing with Talbert's dog, trying to teach him to sit on command. Now she's enjoying the fifth coffee of the day - kindly offered by Dukeman - in the company of Richard and Luz. The latter is strangely quiet, he's eating crackers and fiddling with the radio, as if he's waiting for something.</p>
<p>"You seem very pensive today," Richard tells her at some point.</p>
<p>Grace is sitting on the ground, her back resting against the bench. "Today would have been Hannah's eighteenth birthday."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, Gracie."</p>
<p>"It's nothing, I just⎯ I wonder if she was still alive, if things would've been different. If I'd be here with you guys at all. You know, she was like a little sister to me, maybe I wouldn't have left her, maybe I wouldn't have decided to join the Airborne after all."</p>
<p>"Of course it would've been different."</p>
<p>"Yeah, maybe," Grace says, staring intently at the coffee grounds as if waiting for a divine revelation. "Rich, do you remember Johnny Brooks? In elementary school?"</p>
<p>Richard scrunches up his face in concentration. "Was he the gymnastics teacher?"</p>
<p>"Him!" Grace grins.</p>
<p>"What does he have to do with your friend?"</p>
<p>"Nothing," she shakes her head, smirking a little to herself. "I was just thinking about him this morning, in that foxhole. My memory took me back to the time when he rearranged the schoolyard to make it look like a battlefield, saying that training would be useful in the future. To this day, I still wonder what he wanted to tell us really. He was a madman. But I admit that this morning, looking at that field, I remembered him guiding us through the schoolyard pretending that it was mined."</p>
<p>Richard grins. The further she delves into the heart of the war, the more she realises that her thoughts often result in nonsense. Grace hadn't thought about her elementary school for at least ten years, yet that morning, surrounded by muddy foxholes and frightened men, she couldn't get the smug expression of the gymnastics teacher out of her head.</p>
<p>"Guys, gonna be back in a minute," Grace says standing up and grabbing her beloved M1. When Luz looks at her suspiciously, she adds: "girl stuff."</p>
<p>As she heads towards the door, she notices Talbert coming her way with Trigger on a leash, trying to jump happily in her direction. Grace stops to give him a cuddle and then she exits the barn, savouring the chilly air of the night. Even though October has just begun, the cold crisp air blows through her, tousling her hair and blowing it into her eyes.</p>
<p>After Grace is done, she's about to head back to the barn when she hears a loud cough followed by laughter. Instinctively she takes her rifle from behind her back and then realises that, had it been the enemy, they wouldn't have been so noisy. In fact, the mocking laughter comes from not far away, so she decides to go and see what's happening. It doesn't take her long to find Hoobler and Webster, smoking with their backs propped against a log.</p>
<p>Grace sighs, approaching them.</p>
<p>"Gentlemen," she greets them.</p>
<p>At first they didn't notice her standing there in the dark, so they're startled at the sound of her voice.</p>
<p>"For chrissake, Grace, don't do that!" Webster grumbles as she gets closer.</p>
<p>"Hey, Grace," Hoobler says happily, waving a hand. "We're just smoking."</p>
<p>Grace decides to keep them company a little longer, knowing Richard and Luz wouldn't mind. Besides, she loves spending time with them because they always manage to make her laugh.</p>
<p>"Anything new?" Hoobler asks her.</p>
<p>She shrugs. "Same old, same old. We're just waiting as per usual."</p>
<p>The boys just stare at her, finishing their cigarettes in silence. Grace drops onto the ground next to Hoobler, feeling her butt immediately get wet due to the damp grass.</p>
<p>"How's the leg?" Webster questions, nodding to her leg.</p>
<p>"Better than I hoped," Grace says, noticing some noise in the distance. "Let's say it gives me trouble only when I stay crouched up for too long, so I can barely manage half an hour in a foxhole before I need to stretch. This morning I had to stretch my legs on Perco, poor guy."</p>
<p>Webster smirks, pulling out a journal from his pocket. He does that all the time, using it to write down things that happen during the day. Grace thinks it would be interesting to re-read what one's younger self had felt and experienced, after so many years since the end of the war. She had also thought about keeping a diary once, to give it to her parents, to let them read firsthand how she has spent the last few years. But then she thought it's stupid, that she wouldn't be able to express the awful reality with just a few words in a diary.</p>
<p>On the other hand, Grace thinks that, after the war, she would like to try to forget certain things. Obviously it's not easy to forget that life, all those horrible but also some beautiful experiences, because they will always find a way to peep into a soldier's mind.</p>
<p>Grace hears Hoobler scoff, peeking into his friend's journal.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Hoobler says, apologising upon noticing Webster's exasperated look. "It's just it still makes me laugh your middle name is Kenyon<em>. </em>Can't help it."</p>
<p>"Kenyon?" Grace asks, trying to hide a laugh. "I didn't know."</p>
<p>"So what?" Webster says. "Let's see, what's yours, then?"</p>
<p>"It's Deanna."</p>
<p>"Deanna? It's a lovely name," Hoobler says, smiling. "Was Deanna your grandma or something?"</p>
<p>Grace snorts. "Deanna is no one. My parents gave me names that have nothing to do with our family tree. This way people wouldn't connect me to the family once I'd have left home."</p>
<p>"Shit, that's horrible," Webster's eyes go wide.</p>
<p>Grace spends some more time with them, then decides to go back because it's getting even colder. She bids goodbye to her friends, and then heads back to the barn. Just before opening the door she senses that something is wrong. Moans of pain are coming from within.</p>
<p>She slams the door open and her jaw goes slack when she sees a body on the table and Roe working on it along with Lesniewski. Even with his face covered in blood, Grace can recognise the suffering Moe Alley. All around there's nobody. Just fifteen minutes ago there were soldiers chatting, playing with Talbert's dog, or just relaxing and enjoying some peace before having to spend another day in foxholes. It certainly didn't look like a fun fair, but at least it was relaxing.</p>
<p>Now it seems as if someone had snapped their fingers and the bitterness of war had suddenly fallen upon them.</p>
<p>Grace runs up to Alley, and she's seen enough wounded people to recognise that he had stood next to an exploding grenade because he's covered in wounds.</p>
<p>Roe looks up at her for just a second, before going back to his wounded friend. "Hand me the scissors, Joe."</p>
<p>"Roe," she manages to open her mouth, her voice hoarse as if she hadn't spoken in ages. "What the fuck? What happened?"</p>
<p>Roe keeps fiddling with Alley's uniform and he takes some time before giving her an answer.</p>
<p>"They were on a patrol, Germans found out," he says, his eyes not leaving his hands as he works. "Captain Winters assembled a squad and they went on another patrol."</p>
<p><em>Holy shit, </em>Grace thinks, taking her head in her hands, not believing what she hears. If only she had gone straight back to the barn, she would be out there with them now. To say that she feels guilty is an understatement, although it's not her fault that the Germans decided to attack them tonight. But she can't help but feel stupid, because instead of sitting on the damp ground talking about middle names at least she could've been out there with them.</p>
<p>Grace helps Roe and Lesniewski, that bitter feeling of guilt still in her stomach. She can't stop thinking about the moment she was out there with Hoobler and Webster, when she heard noises in the distance, but it sounded like normal chatter in the moment. Instead it was probably her comrades going off on a patrol, while she was there, doing nothing.</p>
<p>Grace shakes her head fervently, as if trying to make that horrible feeling go away.</p>
<p>Richard, Luz, Talbert, and the others are out there, probably fighting the Germans while she's standing in front of Alley while trying not to break the plasma bottle with her angry grip.</p>
<p>It's just past four o'clock when they decide to take Alley away. Four o'clock morphs slowly into 0430 and then 0500. The wait is terrible, being blind to what's going on out there is terrible, and Grace feels terrible. Everything looks terrible and there's nothing she can do about it. The only thing Grace and the others can do now is just stand there and wait, which is easier said than done.</p>
<p>What feels like hours later, Peacock slams the door of the barn open as Grace is sitting with More, Webster and a few others members of 1st Platoon.</p>
<p>"Gear up! Captain Winters needs our help," he announces and Grace didn't even know she could move that fast, but in a fraction of seconds she's outside, following Peacock into the darkness.</p>
<p>The walk to the outpost seems to last forever, so much so that when they set out it was still pitch dark and now the sky had just softened to a pale blue, revealing what was hidden under the passing starlit night. She breathes a sigh of relief when she finally manages to see the men huddled up in the ditches.</p>
<p>As soon as she spots a huge radio, she immediately throws herself in the ditch and reaches Luz.</p>
<p>"Luz!" she exclaims in as low a tone as possible.</p>
<p>"Grace, welcome to Hell," he tries to joke but she can tell he's very tired, his face is a mess.</p>
<p>"Wh⎯" she starts but then sees a motionless body between Liebgott and Randleman, who gives her a slight nod. "Who's that?"</p>
<p>"Dukeman," Luz answers quietly. "Dead."</p>
<p>"Holy fuck."</p>
<p>"Yeah."</p>
<p>"Where's Richard?" Grace then asks, looking around. Luz points to a spot not far away, right in the middle of the field that separates them from the enemy. Grace has a lump in her throat at the thought of her friend over there alone.</p>
<p>"He's there, somewhere, trying to figure out what we have to do with these Krauts."</p>
<p>Grace settles closer to Luz, flattening herself against the side of the ditch and gripping her rifle tightly. At any moment they could find themselves in the middle of a battle, so better to be ready. She looks to the left and sees Dukeman's lifeless body. Another good man is gone. Grace thinks back of a few hours ago, when Dukeman brought her, Richard and Luz coffee to keep them awake and warm.</p>
<p>It seems like a lifetime ago, but it's just been a few hours.</p>
<p>All of a sudden Grace sees Talbert sliding down in front of her, out of breath. He nods at her and then looks helplessly at the body of his dead friend. A moment later Richard appears too, out of nowhere, and she can't help but let out a loud sigh of relief.</p>
<p>"Here it is," he starts, cutting Grace short before she can even utter a word. "Talbert, you'll take ten men along the dike. Peacock, take ten along the left flank. I'll take ten up the middle, so follow me. Questions?" Everybody shakes their heads. "Go."</p>
<p>"Come on, Whitehead," Talbert calls to her. "On me."</p>
<p>Grace instinctively turns to Luz, locking their gazes together. He gives her a faint smile, lightly touching her arm with his gentle fingers. Then she follows Talbert along the dike, as he gathers men. Grace then finds herself squeezed between Talbert and Martin, waiting.</p>
<p>Always waiting.</p>
<p>"Fix bayonets," Richard whispers, so she takes the bayonet and places it on the tip of the rifle with a click<em>. </em>"Go on the red smoke."</p>
<p>There is absolute stillness. Not a sound can be heard either close at hand or in the far off distance. Even her own breath seems to die as soon as it leaves her mouth. It's an eerie sort of tranquility, so instead of being soothed her senses become heightened. It's as if the world is encased in a cocoon, a bubble, and there's no way out.</p>
<p>Then Grace sees Richard pulling the pin of a smoke grenade, and he throws it in the air as he starts running. He runs, moving further and further away, getting smaller and smaller, but nothing happens.</p>
<p><em>Come on, come on, come on, </em>she thinks.</p>
<p>Grace sees someone standing up with the corner of her eye and then Peacock's voice: "No, wait for the signal!"</p>
<p>But the signal doesn't seem inclined to come to life at first and, when a cloud of red smoke finally spreads in the air, Grace immediately runs as quickly as her legs can carry her. She bolts down the battlefield, her rifle clutched tightly in her sweaty hand, her heart throbbing inside her chest with fear as she runs.</p>
<p>Talbert surpasses her and she runs along behind him as fast as she can. Finally they reach the other side of the field. Without thinking twice, she drops on her stomach and positions herself between Talbert and Sisk. Her lungs feel like they could burst and her throat is so dry.</p>
<p>The battle has already started around her. The smell of gunpowder envelops her nostrils right away. They said that this all would be over by Christmas, but being here makes Christmas look like a long lost dream.</p>
<p>Grace aims and kills, aims and kills. Each body that plunges to the ground is a lost child, father, brother, friend, husband.</p>
<p>"Six... seven..." she counts as she sees bodies flopping onto the ground.</p>
<p>"What do you mean with seven<em>, </em>I just hit my first one," Sisk protests next to her. "Two."</p>
<p>"You're slow, Skinny!"</p>
<p>"Oh, fuck off!"</p>
<p>Grace's bullets hit the target with extreme precision, rushing through the air with great speed and never failing. Each bullet is fashioned to do the very thing people aren't supposed to do - kill. Yet Grace had done a lot of killing in her life and now she just feels numb about it.</p>
<p>"It's a whole other company!" Grace hears Talbert yelling, and when she moves her gaze off the scone, she can see a waterfall of men running down the dike.</p>
<p>"Hey, Tab," she calls to him, settling herself back in position and firing her weapon. "<em>There's a garden, what a garden, only happy faces bloom there.</em>"</p>
<p>Talbert stops his rifle for a moment, looking at her with an incredulous smile on his face.</p>
<p>"I can't believe you."</p>
<p>"<em>And there's never any room there, for a worry or a gloom there</em>," Grace keeps singing, feeling her friend's gaze on her. "Oh, just shut up and follow me."</p>
<p>Talbert starts firing again, and then Grace surprisingly hears his feeble voice. "<em>Oh there's music and there's dancing, and a lot of sweet romancing.</em>"</p>
<p>"<em>When they play the polka, they all get in the swing.</em>"</p>
<p>Grace has by now reached fifteen kills, and nothing calms her more than singing in battle. She knows it's a strange thing, but she has always done it. Tardivat used to tease her, saying she didn't take war seriously, but the truth is that music has always had a calming power over Grace.</p>
<p>"<em>Every time they hear that oom-pah-pa, everybody feels so tra-la-la,</em>" Talbert continues and deep down Grace can't help but feel a little bit satisfied.</p>
<p>Grace watches as Martin and Webster run towards the enemy, taking prisoners. She continues her shooting, smirking at Sisk still counting his targets next to her.</p>
<p>All of a sudden friendly artillery knocks over the Germans. The enemy begins to flee from all sides, now frightened and aware of their defeat, getting lost in the field like insects.</p>
<p>Almost as if it was a punishment for thinking that, German artillery starts harassing them too, quite heavily. As she looks around, all she can see is stray limbs, once fine young men, who now are no longer recognisable as humans.</p>
<p>"Easy Company, take cover!" Grace hears Richard shouting somewhere in the distance.</p>
<p>She follows Sisk into the ditch and she doesn't know how much time has passed, but at some point she hears a shout.</p>
<p>"Jesus Christ, they got me!"</p>
<p>
  <em>No...</em>
</p>
<p>"Web!" Grace yells, abandoning her weapon for a moment, her heart throbbing fast in her chest. "Web, you okay?"</p>
<p>"No worries, Smarty, I'm alive!"</p>
<p>"Take cover! It's German artillery! Get Boyle, he's down! Come on, help me!" Richard shouts again and Grace thinks,<em> fuck, not him too</em>.</p>
<p>Some time later, Grace finds herself standing on the field surrounded by bodies and finally there's peace. The battlefield lay quiet, for it's now a graveyard of the unburied. Their corpses lay among the weed and sporadic forget-me-nots. These men that were once boys who played in the yard with sticks and laughed at each other's silly tales are now meat for the birds. Their eyes are as immobile as their limbs.</p>
<p>The battle is lost for them.</p>
<p>Grace breathes heavily, suddenly aware of how exhausted she is. Her leg is making her pay for straining it so hard, because it starts shaking and she feels a stinging pain in the wound, almost like someone is punching her there.</p>
<p>She feels a hand on her shoulder and her heavy eyes meet Richard and Lewis.</p>
<p>"Grace..."</p>
<p>"I'm okay," she tries a smile, wiping dirty sweat off her forehead. "I'm okay, Rich. It's over. You good? Nix?"</p>
<p>"Never been better," Nixon says, pointing at the battlefield. "We're looking at two full companies of SS here."</p>
<p>"SS? Are you kidding me?" Grace shouts in disbelief, a grin on her face. Grace moves her gaze to Richard, who seems rather quiet. "Something's bothering you, I can tell," she states.</p>
<p>Richard looks up and gives her a sad smile. "I'm just tired, Grace. That's all."</p>
<p>"Yeah," she says but she's not convinced at all.</p>
<p>As they reach the other men, Grace spots Webster not far away, his leg wrapped in bandages. When she heard his voice earlier, saying he had been hit, she got really scared, not that she would ever admit that to him. Grace meets his eyes and gives him a nod, earning back a smile.</p>
<p>"Captain Winters," calls a voice and it's none other than Colonel Sink. "Captain Nixon, Corporal Whitehead."</p>
<p>"Sir," she salutes him.</p>
<p>"The Germans gave you a hard time," he says, motioning them to approach him. He's leaning on a jeep, smoking, watching as medics and soldiers are helping take out the wounded. "They gave us all a hard time. 363rd Volksgrenadier hit Opheusden early this morning, about the same time your SS made a run for my CP down the road. 3rd Battalion got the hell beat out of them. Ollie Horton was killed."</p>
<p>"Major Horton is dead?" Nixon asks.</p>
<p>"They hit 2nd Battalion CP in force. He was organising the defence," Sink explains, saddened. He lays his eyes first on Nixon and then on Grace. "Captain, corporal, excuse us for just a minute."</p>
<p>They both nod as Sink leads Richard away from them.</p>
<p>"Do you know what's gotten into him?" Grace asks Nixon, watching Richard from afar. In addition to being tired, he also seems lifeless, clearly shaken by something. Even if he's physically fine, it's clear to Grace that something is wrong with him, he knows it that Grace is aware of it too.</p>
<p>"He just needs something to drink," Nixon snorts.</p>
<p>"If so, he won't be having any trouble finding it. He just needs to open his footlocker where you hide all your stuff," Grace mocks him and she's momentarily afraid she had crossed the line, but Nixon just laughs and nods in agreement. After all, everyone is used to her wit. And Nixon likes her. "I'm just saying you could share, sometimes."</p>
<p>"No wonder they call you Smarty," he laughs, throwing his cigarette butt and patting her on the shoulder, leaving her alone.</p>
<p>She glances at Richard one last time before turning around and seeing her favourite trio playing with each other just a few feet from her. Grace reaches her friends, letting herself slide onto the sloping ground.</p>
<p>"Grace, watch this," Muck immediately catches her attention, using the spoon as a catapult to shoot a piece of dirt at Malarkey.</p>
<p>"Will you ever stop?" the latter protests, bringing a hand to where the piece of dirt hit him. "He's been doing that for five minutes."</p>
<p>"Just move away, then," Grace says, mocking him.</p>
<p>"Not to mention the five minutes when that spoon was constantly hitting my ear," Penkala adds, and Muck just shrugs.</p>
<p>"I'm just happy we made it through the night," he explains.</p>
<p>"Yeah, what a night," Penkala comments, sighing. "Can't shake the sound of mortars. We've been firing almost non-stop."</p>
<p>"I killed twenty-one men today," Grace just says to no one in particular.</p>
<p>They are followed by a moment of silence in which she doesn't even dare look at her friends in the face, even though she feels their eyes piercing her skin. Grace prefers to look at her dirt-stained hands.</p>
<p>"You keep count?" Malarkey asks, and she nods.</p>
<p>"It's not healthy, Grace. For your head," Penkala says and Grace completely agrees with him. "I wouldn't dare... by the end of the war, I'd be too ashamed of myself."</p>
<p>"I know, Penk, I know. I just can't help it."</p>
<p>Suddenly she feels a hand run down her back, Muck's meaningful caresses relaxing her for a few seconds. She looks up at him, giving him a big, grateful smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p>
<p> </p>
<p>News spread fast within Easy Company that Winters won't be their company commander anymore, but he will be leading the whole battalion instead. From now on he will be second in command to Strayer.</p>
<p>Grace doesn't know how to feel about it: she's torn because she's happy and proud that her closest friend got promoted, he deserves every recognition he can get. However, she won't have the opportunity to see him around so often anymore. First, she had lost Welsh to a promotion, and now Richard.</p>
<p>On a happier note, Easy Company earned a well respected new commander, Moose Heyliger. He settled into the company very well, helped a little by the fact he was already respected by the men since he was part of Easy Company before they left the US in 1943. Heyliger also seemed happy to be back.</p>
<p>When Grace knocks on the door, a distracted, familiar voice welcomes her.</p>
<p>"Come on in."</p>
<p>She enters as instructed, coming face to face with Richard and Heyliger. Richard is seated behind a desk and it's one of the strangest things that Grace has ever seen; Heyliger is standing next to him, welcoming her into the room with a big smile.</p>
<p>Grace won't ever say this to anyone, but Heyliger is one of the most attractive men she's ever seen. She laughs at herself, thinking back at that time when she had thought the same thing about Talbert, and now they're friends, making fun of each other daily.</p>
<p>"Sir," she says, looking down at the two mugs of coffee in her hands. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know you were here or I'd have brought more coffee."</p>
<p>Heyliger smiles. "You'd have needed a third hand for that, corporal."</p>
<p>"I can give you mine, sir," she hands the captain the mug as she approaches the desk. "Actually, I've already had one, even though it's not even eight in the morning."</p>
<p>Both of them grin. "You can enjoy your second coffee of the day, I was about to go," Heyliger says, taking a piece of paper from the desk. "If you could meet me after lunch, Whitehead, that'd be great."</p>
<p>"I will, sir," Grace says a little bit hesitant, wondering what that might mean.</p>
<p>"Great. Captain Winters," Heyliger salutes them and then leaves Grace and Richard alone.</p>
<p>"You know anything about this?" Grace asks with a furrowed brow.</p>
<p>"About what?" Richard fakes a surprised tone.</p>
<p>"What does he want? You never called me into private meetings, what's this about?"</p>
<p>"Well," he starts, curving his mouth downwards, "turned out Moose has a cousin in SOE. I think he's just curious to know if you know them."</p>
<p>"What?!" Grace shouts in disbelief. "Who?"</p>
<p>"How can I know?" Richard shrugs. "Of course, I didn't tell you anything."</p>
<p>"Of course," she replies casually, still incredulous at what she just heard. "So, what did you want to see me for? How're you holding up behind this desk? It sure is a strange sight."</p>
<p>Richard takes a sip from his coffee before answering. "It's fine. Odd, but fine. Mostly my time consists of logistical, administrative things, management of day-to-day activities and the like. And leading, of course."</p>
<p>"Rich, just confess you're fucking bored already," Grace scoffs, raising a brow. "You're talking to <em>me, </em>not just anyone."</p>
<p>He laughs. "Not that I'm bored..."</p>
<p>"You're bored."</p>
<p>"Okay, must admit my new responsibilities aren't particularly entertaining," he confesses, fiddling with some papers. "I'm used to fighting, to leading men in battle instead from behind a desk. Now I get why you didn't accept your Major General's offer, back in July. Also, I feel like I lost the men."</p>
<p>"Rich," Grace repeats, "you didn't lose anyone. The men love you, they all love you and respect you. And you will lead us still. Not from the field, but from up here. The men are all grateful to you. Sobel might have built Easy Company physically, but <em>you </em>showed them how it is to be out here, in war. You showed them how to be a soldier, how to fight. I'm sure if you'd ask them, they'd follow you to the moon. You are, and always will be the core of this company, Richard."</p>
<p>For a moment it almost looks like Richard's eyes are glistening. Grace finishes her coffee quickly, looking everywhere but in his direction. She certainly didn't want to embarrass him blurting out those words, she just wanted to let him know what she and the rest of the men really think about him. That he hasn't abandoned them at all, that they can and will always rely on him and his guidance.</p>
<p>"The men are happy with Heyliger, anyway, you don't have to worry about that," Grace says eventually. "I mean, he seems like a good leader and they told me he was in Easy before leaving the States. He's not you, but he'll do just fine. Let's hope the new captain from the regiment will be as good as you two."</p>
<p>"Yeah, fingers crossed."</p>
<p>"Now you can tell me, you know?" Grace tries to get him to speak. "About that day at the battlefield."</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" he asks, curious.</p>
<p>Grace rolls her eyes. "You weren't yourself, after. Something happened in you, what was it? And don't say 'nothing' because you know I won't believe you."</p>
<p>Richard seems to understand what she's referring to, because for a moment he looks down at his intertwined hands, before looking into her eyes once again.</p>
<p>"That sentry smiled at me," he just says.</p>
<p>"What? What sentry?"</p>
<p>"When I ran to the dike and started firing," he starts to explain. "There was this sentry, just a kid, he couldn't have been more than twenty years old. He smiled at me, before I aimed and shot. He smiled at me, Grace, and I killed him."</p>
<p>"Dukeman was a kid, too. And also Miller and van Klinken. We're all kids, but war doesn't give a flying fuck about our age. Rich, he was an SS. I've met plenty of SS through the years and believe me by killing him you did the world a favour. Also, I'm pretty sure he would've done the same and kill you instantly if he hadn't been that slow."</p>
<p>"Perhaps."</p>
<p>"Forget the 'perhaps'," Grace says a little louder than she wanted. "You didn't do anything wrong. This is war. Our job is killing, and that's what we do. You killed that boy, I took twenty-one other sons from their mothers."</p>
<p>Richard stares at her for a long, silent moment. "You still count them?"</p>
<p>"Always."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry you feel like this, Grace," he says in a pitiful tone, but Grace doesn't need pity.</p>
<p>"Feeling how? Rich, I feel fine. I've never felt this alive in ages, actually, knowing we're getting closer each day to Berlin. Of course I don't particularly enjoy murdering people, but that's what I'm good at. That's what I was taught. I <em>have </em>to do it. For Henri, for Hannah. And for the long list of people I've lost because of that madman and his disgusting ideals."</p>
<p>For a moment Richard seems a little dumbfounded by her words, but in the end he gives her a big smile and Grace has missed seeing him smile like that.</p>
<p>"How come you always manage to make me feel better?" he asks, eyes gleaming.</p>
<p>Grace shrugs. "Maybe because I'm the best friend in the world?"</p>
<p>Richard raises a brow, and then just lets out a chuckle.</p>
<p>"Maybe."</p>
<p>
  <em>***</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>"On October 16th, I recommended that the 1st Platoon and the first section of the light machine gun platoon of Headquarters Company be cited for gallantry in action. In compiling my recommendation, I noted that 1st Platoon had spearheaded the company attack at Carentan. In Holland they had led the attack on Nuenen during which fifteen men of the platoon were killed or injured. Now they had been instrumental in the destruction of two companies of SS troops. God, I was proud of these men!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Eleven days later, Colonel Sink issued a regimental general order that cited 1st Platoon, Easy Company, for "their daring and aggressive spirit and spund tactical ability" against vastly superior enemy force. The citation was reward enough for me."</em>
</p>
<p><b>~ Richard Winters, </b> <b> <em>Beyond Band of Brothers</em> </b> <b> ~</b></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>» info «<br/>- the song Grace and Talbert sing is <i>Beer Barrel Polka</i> by <i>The Andrews Sisters</i>;<br/>- all of the info you find in my story, the ones that they didn't put in the tv show, I take them from the veterans' books :) (especially Beyond Band of Brothers by Richard Winters, and Easy Company Soldier by Donald Malarkey)<br/>- Moose didn't have a cousin at SOE, I made it up! (it's be so fun if he actually had one, haha)<br/>- I don't recall them saying this in the show, but Moose was really in Easy Company before they left America! He had been reassigned to HQ Company as a mortar platoon leader right before they left. He wasn't supposed to remain CO of Easy for too long, it was temporary until Dike arrived from regimental headquarters.<br/>- "I feel like I lost my men" is a true phrase that Winters says in his book Beyond Band of Brothers when he talks about the promotion :(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you Angie for beta reading this chapter and for supporting me always. I love you so much &lt;3</p><p> </p><p>  <i>this chapter is dedicated to all of you who suffered a loss. it's hard, it's unbearable at times, but you're not alone. this chapter is for you.</i></p><p> </p><p><b>TRIGGER WARNING, SPOILER AHEAD</b>: mentions of miscarriage at the end.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Turns out that Richard was right: all that the new captain of Easy Company wants from Grace is to know if she’s familiar with a certain Ron Brachman, who’s his cousin working at SOE. Grace remembers each and every person she has ever worked with, every name as well as their faces, and she thinks she has heard his name somehow, although she's sure that she’s never worked with him.</p><p>“I’m sorry, captain,” Grace says, shaking her head as she follows Heyliger down the stairs. “Perhaps he has a position at headquarters?”</p><p>“Ah, yes, he does,” Heyliger replies. </p><p>Grace chews on her bottom lip. “Sir, I really don’t wanna brag, but I’m a woman of action and I’ve always had very little to do with headquarters. For the most part I dealt with Station XII and Station XV. I've been to our headquarters only twice and the only way I could’ve run into your cousin is in the hallway leading from the entrance to the Major General's office.”</p><p>Unexpectedly, Heyliger bursts into a hearty laughter. He grabs her shoulder, shaking her in a friendly way.</p><p>“Oh my, Corporal Whitehead, I really admire your spirit,” he confesses. Grace feels a little embarrassed that she had her captain laughing so hard at something she said, something that she didn’t feel was that funny. </p><p>Maybe she did sound like she was bragging about herself after all.</p><p>“Thank you, sir.”</p><p>They exit the building, Grace still following him even though she doesn’t really know where they’re heading. Today the sky is barely visible under a rough woollen blanket of grey that covers it all and blocks out the sun. The air is heavier than it was in the morning, with the dampness of a coming storm.</p><p>There are several soldiers scattered around the courtyard, some appear to be in a hurry, others are simply intent on chatting. Grace spots one soldier standing out above all, the unmistakable red beret slightly bent to the left.</p><p>“Sir,” Grace begins, eyes still following the British soldier as he salutes the man he was talking to and walks away. “There’s a rumor. About a mission.”</p><p>“Operation Pegasus, yes,” Heyliger nods, and she blinks at him a couple of times because she wasn’t expecting such an immediate response. “Something you don’t need to worry about, corporal.”</p><p>“But I wanna be there, sir.”</p><p>“I suspected that,” he smiles, “but I’m gonna have 3rd Platoon on it. Besides, I can see you limping sometimes. Just take some more rest, okay?”</p><p>“But sir⎯”</p><p>“Rest.”</p><p>Grace senses the tone of finality in his voice and the last thing she wants to do is to contradict him. She can't deny feeling a little disappointed though, because she sees it as an opportunity to show him how much she’s worth as a soldier. Instead, Grace is being put on the sidelines. </p><p>It's been weeks since the battle of the crossroads and she feels somehow recharged. Heyliger is right about her occasional limp, but the doctor told her it would take her leg some time to fully recover. It doesn't bother her as it used to, although she can't deny that her leg made her pay for it for days after putting it through so much during that most recent battle.</p><p>“Well, I think I held you up long enough,” Heyliger says as they reach a jeep. Grace gives him a sincere smile, and is about to tell him that she really couldn't be happier that she was taken out of her routine for a little longer, when he continues. “Listen, Whitehead, I know I’m not Winters, but I’m doing my best. I don’t know how long I’ll have this company for yet, but if you ever need anything, I’m all ears.”</p><p>“Are you telling me because I’m the only woman in the company, sir?” Grace queries, raising a brow.</p><p>“Not quite,” he says, and she can sense a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “Captain Winters is very fond of Easy Company and he probably will never admit it, but I can see he’s upset he doesn’t get to be part of it anymore. And, as he keeps telling me, he’s also very fond of you, because you were childhood friends. Sometimes it makes me feel like I took his company away from him, and you along with it. So, what I wanted to say is that I know I’m not him but when there’s something troubling you, I’m here to listen.”</p><p>That’s something Grace certainly didn't expect. Heyliger is looking at her with uncertainty, as if he regrets having just said those things. His blue eyes are like a deep well, Grace gets lost in them for a moment before responding with a small smile.</p><p>“Sir, sounds like you feel guilty just because he’s been promoted,” she says, crossing her arms. “Just so you know, the men are happy to have you. We trust you and your judgement. And thank you. I can’t speak for the men, but what you said means a lot. To me, and I’m sure to them too.”</p><p>A grin spreads across Heyliger's face, clearly relieved after hearing those words. He nods, and his hand has just reached the handle of the car when a voice coming from behind suddenly catches them.</p><p>“Moose! The man I was looking for,” Welsh greets him, appearing next to her, “and Grace, the woman I always look for.”</p><p>“Don’t push yourself like that, Harry, or I’m gonna have to tell Kitty,” Grace mocks him, and Welsh glances up to the sky, whispering a 'oh god, please, no' in a joking way. “Fancy seeing you here.”</p><p>“Hey, Harry,” Heyliger nods, offering him a smile. “What did you need me for? Is it Pegasus?”</p><p>“I don’t know, Moose, but Lew was looking for you.”</p><p>“Alright, I guess the men can wait,” Heyliger tells them, waving at the driver to wait for him. “If you need a ride, Whitehead, I'm afraid you'll have to wait.”</p><p>“I’ll handle that,” Welsh nods, smiling at Grace. “I was about to head that way, anyway.”</p><p>Heyliger salutes them and walks away.</p><p>“I just had the strangest conversation with him,” Grace says with a frown, watching as he enters a different building from the one they exited earlier. The kindness of his words is still engraved in her mind.</p><p>“At least he’s not the embodiment of boredom like Strayer,” Welsh huffs out. “Obviously, I never said that.”</p><p>“Obviously,” she cackles. “I agree, though.”</p><p>“A piece of advice,” Welsh turns to her, “don’t ever play cards with Moose. Ever. We’re all bankrupt because of him.”</p><p>“I can’t imagine a scenario where I play cards with him, but thanks for the heads up,” Grace laughs. “But rather, I didn't think of him as so... so <em> brotherly </em>. He just offered me support and, I’m quoting, ‘I know I’m not Winters’ as if he thinks he’s lesser compared to Richard. I don’t want him to feel like that because we all like him.”</p><p>“Ah,” Welsh sighs, “yes, he was a little nervous about taking over from Winters, but I know he'll be fine. He's a great leader, and a good man. It’s just difficult for an officer to take over other companies at first, you know. Just as much as it is for soldiers to adjust to another captain’s methods.”</p><p>Grace gives him a faint nod of assent. She's sure Welsh is right, but that doesn't prevent her from feeling a little sorry for Heyliger because it was as if he was seeking approval. </p><p>Grace hops in the passenger seat as soon as they reach the car. Welsh drives fast, like he's in a hurry, but she doesn't worry. </p><p>On the contrary, she relishes the roaring wind that makes her ponytail twirl and whistles in her ears, the colours of the countryside flashing fast as they gain speed, releasing a faint cloud of dust as the car engine sings to the lone country road.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Despite the bright colors of nature, the end of October brings with it a sharp and unexpected cold. During the day, the fallen leaves look like a mosaic of colors, carpeting the Dutch countryside in every shade of yellow, gold and red. It gives a feeling of immense heat, it's almost impossible to think that anything could take that heat away. </p><p>But nights can. And they do. The night falls on the earth quickly and confidently, not more than an hour ago the sky was painted red and pink, but all the colors had faded leaving only a dull black canvas with no stars to look at. </p><p>The night comes in Nijmegen with such bitterness that Grace feels the cold onshore breeze seeping in through the windows and blowing right through her uniform. </p><p>She sips on her champagne, trying to keep herself warm.</p><p>“How do you do that?” Liebgott asks her at some point, staring at her with his brow furrowed.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“That’s your third glass of champagne in the last half an hour,” he comments, half impressed, half concerned.</p><p>“Actually, Lieb, it’s my fourth,” Grace smirks, ignoring the intensification of her friend’s frown. “I guess I’m used to it. I used to drink whiskey as an extra push to deal with some situations. With some shitty people, you know. I'm quite good at flirting, but sometimes it was just so hard pretending around those Nazi fucks when all I wanted to do was grab my gun and blow out their brains.”</p><p>Liebgott releases an amused snort, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand. He’s squatting with his back against the wall and his gaze fixed on an indistinct point in front of him.</p><p>“If this ain’t poetry,” Guarnere comments sarcastically, and she can’t help but let out a laugh. “Why did you have to flirt with those bastards?”</p><p>Grace shrugs. “It was part of my job. Gathering whatever information,<em> no matter the cost,” </em>she recites in a theatrical tone that sounds like the voices of her superiors in her head. “A little powder and a little drink on the way, and I'd pass the German posts and wink and say, 'do you want to search me?' God, what a flirtatious little bastard I was. What horrible things I’ve done. Do I hate myself for doing them? Absolutely. Do I regret it? Not in the slightest. Is it the alcohol talking? Probably.” </p><p>The boys all laugh a little, but especially Guarnere, who grimaces but let out his trademark chuckle. </p><p>Heffron is sitting next to him, half asleep, and then there is Liebgott, Hoobler and Gordon; they are all crouched on the ground, looking like a bunch of kids bored with the teacher's lesson. Truth is they're just very tired, Grace thinks that it's already past three in the morning and it's been a long, long day.</p><p>It's been hours since Operation Pegasus was successfully completed and Lieutenant Colonel Dobie, also known as the Mad Colonel of Arnhem, is still handing out bottles of champagne to the men, still shaking hands and congratulating everyone.</p><p>The operation was a success, with just a little resistance from the Germans. Their sporadic fire was so inaccurate that they kept targeting the wrong area as Easy Company had been busy carrying the soldiers from one bank to the other.</p><p>Grace obviously didn’t get any part in this as promised by Heyliger.</p><p>That night Easy Company saved one hundred and thirty-eight people, including Dutch civilians, American aviators and of course the British paratroopers.</p><p>The Mad Colonel was captured during Operation Market Garden while his men were trapped on the wrong side of the Rhine, but he managed to escape and was later rescued by the Dutch Underground. He managed to swim in the cold waters of the Rhine and get in touch with Colonel Sink. The man saved himself to ensure that the lives of his men could be saved.</p><p>That same night he arranged a party and kept thanking Heyliger for his huge help over and over again.</p><p>Guarnere is staring at her with a surprisingly brotherly expression. Every so often Grace looks these men in the eye and remembers that they have been facing combat for only a few months, while she has been drowning in it for years. Some of them have dull, tired, broken eyes, and she doesn't want to imagine what they might see in hers; she wonders if they can see years and years of horrors hiding behind her green irises.</p><p>All she knows is that this worried her once, feeling more and more naked bringing these glimpses of her past to the surface. As the war goes on, Grace discovers she doesn't worry about feeling bare in front of them anymore.</p><p>“Hey,” Guarnere catches her attention, “we all did horrible things. And we’re gonna keep doing them for god knows how long. But in war you either do them, or die.”</p><p>Grace nods and then looks away, her lazy eyes setting on Dobie. He's a fine man, a great captain, and whenever she hears him speak, his strong accent immediately transports her to England.</p><p>Grace yawns, casting a sleepy look at Gordon sitting next to her. He was out there tonight risking his life with the rest of 3rd platoon, but now his face looks quite relaxed.</p><p>Convinced that she would soon fall asleep, Grace says goodnight to her friends, who in the meantime had been concentrating on another conversation to which she hadn't paid much attention, and heads to find Muck and Malarkey - she had spotted them go out with Penkala earlier.</p><p>Grace only took a few steps before a hand blocks her abruptly.</p><p>“I thought it was you!” a gentle voice with a strong British accent takes her by surprise. “I just knew it.”</p><p>She gives him a curious glance, certain this man must have mistaken her for someone else. </p><p>“I’m sorry, do I know you?” she asks, unsure.</p><p>The soldier smirks, nodding. “Yes! Well, not really,” he blurts out, quite confused himself. “We met in London years ago. At the recruitment office?”</p><p>Grace is aware that in that moment the confusion is evident on her face, but she just can't remember the man. But this person knows that she tried to join the British Army years ago and certainly couldn’t know that if their paths hadn’t crossed before.</p><p>Suddenly the man takes off his red beret and offers her a small smile. “It must be you, I remember every face I meet. You wore very short hair, you tried to pass yourself off as a man.”</p><p>Like a great rush of water, the memory comes back to her.</p><p>Now the vivid image of a boy in his twenties, the sporadic hair on his chin, the excitement in his voice as he talks, the hopeful look of someone who's just about to do the most courageous thing. The twinkle in his eye when he realised she was a girl... now it all comes back to her. But that man standing in front of her reflects another kind of emotion, another kind of hope.</p><p>“Oh my god!” Grace exclaims, failing to hold back a huge smile. “James! Yes!”</p><p>“Well, if this isn’t one of the strangest things I’ve ever experienced,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Getting my arse saved by none other than the only person who didn't get into the army that day.”</p><p>“Technically, I didn’t save you,” she specifies. “But I get what you’re saying.”</p><p>“What are you doing here with the Americans?” James asks, genuinely curious and excited. </p><p>For a moment Grace is torn between telling him the truth about her recruitment in the British special forces or whether to lie and be vague. She doesn't think he will ever go around babbling about her personal business, but still she decides it's best to be cautious.</p><p>“Let’s say a series of unfortunate and odd circumstances brought me here with them,” she starts, measuring her words carefully. “But they’re family, now.”</p><p>“I’m glad you managed to get into the army, eventually,” James smiles broadly, handing her a bottle. “Let’s have a toast, to the unfortunate and odd circumstances!”</p><p>Grace laughs softly and accepts the bottle. “To the unfortunate and odd circumstances.”</p><p>The two of them bump their bottles together, and then she takes a long sip, ignoring the throbbing in her head from the alcohol she had already consumed.</p><p>“I might be good with faces, but not that good with names,” James apologies.</p><p>“Hélène,” Grace blurts out instinctively, surprised to hear her own voice saying that name. It’s been awhile.</p><p>“Hélène,” he repeats, a thoughtful expression on his face. “No, I didn’t remember that at all.”</p><p><em> Because Hélène was still to be created, </em>Grace says to herself.</p><p>Grace finds herself staring at James curiously, wondering how he managed to recognise her after five years and at least twelve inches of extra hair. She thought she had changed so much in the last few years, both physically and mentally. Whenever she looks at her reflection, she can hardly recognise the girl who's staring back at her. Grace’s features are still young, she's only twenty-two, but she has always managed to see the signs that this damned war had been cruel enough to give her. The fact of feeling old inside has always reflected on her outward appearance and she’s always seen herself older than she actually is.</p><p>And now here comes James, who in those changed features succeeded in recognising that same girl. The girl who once knew nothing about war, but who was willing to chop off her long mane of hair to get into it. To prove to her father that she could be as much a soldier as he was, as much as the coveted but never born brother could have been.</p><p>After all these years, Grace feels like she’s at least accomplished something. She feels good with herself, she finally feels <em> enough </em>. </p><p>“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Grace had zoned out for a moment, absently watching his lips move without hearing the sound. </p><p>“I said that I’m happy I met you here,” James replies gently. “You’ve always been stuck in my head, you know. Not in <em> that </em>way! I’m not flirting, to be honest I’m not sure how to do that anymore. It’s just⎯ we talked for just five minutes back then, but your tenacity has always remained etched in my mind. It was such a strange thing, you being there. I didn't remember your name, but your expression at that moment is something I will never forget and I can't even tell you why. I know I seem awkward, I don’t mean to. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you.”</p><p>Grace blinks at him a few times, holding back a laugh because she doesn't want to offend him in any way, but what James told her really made her feel appreciated.</p><p>“You don’t seem awkward at all, James. Actually, thank you for saying those words, I feel like I needed it.”</p><p>They keep chatting for a while, the tiredness into which Grace had slipped a little while ago now vanished and she feels more awake than ever. James tells her how he and his comrades got trapped on the wrong side of the Rhine, only to go back in time about his early years in the army. Grace tells him about Carentan, about Operation Market Garden, she tells him about being wounded.</p><p>Time goes by, Grace can't tell how long. But whatever time it is, the men don’t seem to want to stop celebrating. The adrenaline is keeping them awake, flowing through their veins forcefully, together with the happiness of finally being free.</p><p>Grace is surprised by a yawn, although she doesn't feel particularly tired, just as someone wraps their arm into the crook of her elbow.</p><p>“Smarty!” Malarkey exclaims, clearly a bit tipsy. “Grace! Hélène! Whatever.”</p><p>“Has someone been drinking?” Grace asks laughing, glancing over to James and finding him smiling, hoping he won’t question either Smarty or Grace.</p><p>“Who?” Malarkey asks.</p><p>Suddenly Muck and Luz come out of nowhere, and they look drunk too but not quite as much as Malarkey. On the other hand, Grace feels a little on the drunk side herself, which is inevitable after four glasses of champagne and at least another half bottle.</p><p>“Who’s this?” Luz asks, motioning towards James. “Is he the Mad Russian guy?”</p><p>“Does he seem American to you?” Grace rolls her eyes, gesturing towards James’ red beret.</p><p>“I’m James, nice to meet you,” James introduces himself shyly. “Hélène and I met years ago in London. And now here.”</p><p>“Oooh,” Muck chants, wrapping Grace’s free arm into his, “nice. Also, weird.”</p><p>“And unexpected.”</p><p>“And unbelievable.”</p><p>“A fairy tale, basically,” Luz steps in with his unmistakable irony. </p><p>Grace rolls her eyes again, and then gives James an apologetic look, but she's pleased to notice that he's unbothered and still smiling. It's way too late - or too early? - to argue, so she ignores Luz's sarcastic tone and focuses on the fact that Malarkey looks like he’s about to fall asleep on her shoulder.</p><p>“Guys, what about we go get some fresh air and a couple of hours of sleep?” Grace suggests, moving her arm a little so as to keep her friend awake. “I’m so sorry,” she then addresses James, “looks like it’s bedtime. It was nice meeting you again, James. And thank you for the chat.”</p><p>“My pleasure, truly,” he says, bowing his head a little to salute her. “Hope to see you around, Hélène.”</p><p>Grace nods and practically drags her friends out in the open, regretting it immediately as the chillness of the air pinches her skin. Grace still has Malarkey and Muck hanging from her arms, while Luz is silently following behind them.</p><p>“What about we wait for the sunrise?” Muck suggests excitedly as if he’s been struck by the most brilliant idea in the world, which it definitely is not.</p><p>“And get pneumonia?” Grace raises a brow. “No, thanks.”</p><p>“Come on! I’m gonna get some blankets!”</p><p>“Blankets can’t protect you from pneumonia, genius,” Luz intervenes, finally something reasonable coming out his mouth.</p><p>“But it’ll be fun! Just us,” Muck almost pleads, moving to face Grace. “Do you want to think back to this moment and ask yourself what could've happened if you’d stayed? Huh?”</p><p>Grace laughs, shaking her head. She moves her gaze to Luz, who was already staring at her; he just shrugs in surrender, revealing a small smile in the darkness. “As long as I don’t wake up with pneumonia.”</p><p>Grace convinces herself that they all have enough alcohol in their system to keep them warm for a little while longer. Muck eventually comes back with a couple of blankets, while the others have already settled near a fence. Malarkey is wide awake now, and can’t stop babbling about Operation Pegasus, which involved him firsthand. One of the few outside 3rd platoon who had been chosen by Heyliger. </p><p>He fixes himself next to Grace, throwing one of the blankets to cover them both while Muck and Luz share the other one.</p><p>“Did you really know that guy in there, Grace?” Muck abruptly interrupts Malarkey’s blathering.</p><p>“Yeah, I mean, not really. We met at the recruitment office when I tried to enlist back in ’39. It was just a five minute conversation.”</p><p>“First, that guy from the Ducth resistance and now this,” Malarkey whistles, snuggling closer to her in an attempt to get a little warmth.</p><p>“I swear the more we get into this war, the more I’m convinced the world is the size of a stamp,” Grace states. “At least they’re on the friends’ side. I don't want to think what would've happened if they had been Gestapo officers, instead.”</p><p>Luz snorts next to her. “Well, it could still happen.”</p><p>“That’s consoling, thanks.”</p><p>He nudges her a little under the blanket, and Grace knows he’s smiling even though she can’t see him properly in the darkness. There’s no moon and no stars looking over them from the sky, just a few lights coming from the farmhouse where the party is still going on.</p><p>“Hey, guys, I’ve been thinking,” Malarkey starts at some point, “do you have a secret? Like, a secret secret, something that only you know.”</p><p>“What made you think of that, Don?” Luz asks.</p><p>Grace feels Malarkey shrugging against her. “Grace said Gestapo and it made me think about all of the things she told us about, ya know, her life before us. And I was wondering, Grace, if you’ve done stuff you’re not allowed to talk about. If you have done things that no one knows about.”</p><p>“Of course she did, idiot, she’s used to work for the special forces!” Muck says, throwing a piece of dirt at Malarkey. “You’re not allowed to say this kind of stuff to the plebs.”</p><p>Grace laughs, but she has to agree with Muck. </p><p>“Well, yeah, I’ve done some things,” she says, clearing her throat, “but I‘m afraid all of them aren’t <em> secret secret, </em>as you called it.”</p><p>“It’s like, we learn things about you everyday. I was just curious if there’s something about you that no one knows, that’s all.”</p><p><em> Something about you that no one knows </em>… </p><p>Those simple words are like a warning siren, a siren that wrenches at her mind like a butcher's cleaver on a carcass. The siren brings with its sound a painful memory, a memory just as painful as the loss of her husband.</p><p>Those memories are Grace's soul torturer. </p><p>She can't escape them, or hide from them because they're the worst kind of monster. She simply pauses them so she can go on day after day. They're pin point needles, piercing her skin. And sometimes the pain is unbearable. It's like a snake biting her in the same place repeatedly, like dragging a knife across the heart slowly. </p><p>All Grace can do is just endure the pain as the memory flashes through her mind.</p><p>She's learned how to transform memories in imaginary books, and how to leave them on the shelf in the back of her mind to gather dust. Sometimes she picks them up, as if she needs to learn something from her own past.</p><p>But not<em> that </em> book. </p><p>This is the first time in a long, long time that Grace finds herself thinking about that horrible book.</p><p>“I’ll start, then,” Luz says, interrupting Grace’s turmoil of thoughts. “I wish I could marry Rita Hayworth.”</p><p>“For crying out loud, Luz, that’s not a secret!” Muck elbows him. “Everybody knows she’s your dream girl.”</p><p>“Yes, but nobody knows I’d marry her.”</p><p>“What, that doesn’t make sense!” Malarkey protests, laughing. “You’re ruining the game.”</p><p>“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Don, everything I do I tell you guys!”</p><p>“Okay, okay, let me try,” Muck says in excitement, concentrating so hard that Grace can almost hear his thoughts fighting with hers. “When I was seven, my parents took me to my uncle's estate in Wyoming once. He has a beautiful farm with lots of horses, and pigs, and cows. I still don't understand why, maybe he wanted to make a man out of me, but my uncle made me kill a rabbit. I cried a lot after, because it wasn't fair and because I didn't understand why he wanted me to do it. I've never told anyone because I'm very ashamed of it. Both killing the rabbit and crying afterwards.”</p><p>“Christ, dude, that’s terrible for a seven year old kid,” Luz observes.</p><p>Grace stops listening at some point, her heart still throbbing hard in her chest as images from years ago playing in her head like a movie.</p><p>“So, what about you, Grace?” Muck then prompts, startling her. “Did you think about something more secret than me killing innocent rabbits?”</p><p>She has never told anyone about it and she doesn't know why but now, almost four years later, sitting on the cold ground of a Dutch farm, Grace feels that she can finally get rid of this anvil that has been pressing into her chest for too long. </p><p>“Do you guys remember when I told you I'd been arrested years ago?” she starts. They don’t say anything, but she knows they remember it very well. “I told you they’d spent two weeks trying to gather information from me. Beating me up, not feeding me, throwing me buckets of cold water. What I haven’t told you…” phrases are forming in her head, but for whatever reason seems more and more difficult to put them into words. “What no one knows is that I was with child.”</p><p>Silence clings to them like a poisonous cloud, and she can't deny it feels terrifying. Like the moment before a bomb goes off. They are probably expecting her to crumble, wail or dissolve into tears, but she does none of those things. Instead, Grace just stays there, repeating those words in her head that just escaped her mouth like a mantra.</p><p>She feels Luz shifting next to her, feeling his gaze on her darkened face.</p><p>“Grace…” he starts, but the sentence ends there.</p><p>“You guys don’t have to say anything,” Grace says in a feeble whisper. “It’s been years, and I had to tell somebody at some point.”</p><p>“Didn’t Henri know?” Muck asks, his voice hoarse.</p><p>“I didn’t tell him, no. How could I? I had just discovered it myself. I didn’t even have the time to process that I was gonna be a mother, yet they took my child away from me. They took my child, they took my husband, they took my best friend. They took everything from me.”</p><p>“You’re so strong, Grace,” Malarkey states. “You have nothing left, yet you’re here, fighting for the future. I’ll never understand how you can do it.”</p><p>“I don’t even know myself, Don,” she answers. “Sometimes I feel miserable, the pain is just intolerable. Then I think about the good things. The good memories keep me going and the bad ones make me want to curl under a blanket and never come out again. But they’re locked tight together like two sides of the same coin. And those memories <em> are </em>me. I could never get rid of them, because it’d mean getting rid of myself. I just pause them, I guess.”</p><p>None of them say anything anymore, and it's as if the cold air of the night had frozen not only their limbs but also their thoughts. Grace is fine with that, she herself wouldn't know what to say in these situations. </p><p>The memory of her lost child has awakened so much sadness, but she's also grateful to have had the opportunity to talk about it with her friends.</p><p>Suddenly she feels two heads resting on both of her shoulders; Malarkey and Luz curl up on her and it feels like they take all the cold away.</p><p>Her head glides gently over Luz's, the scent of his hair tickling her nostrils.</p><p>“I love you, guys,” Grace says eventually, watching as the light of dawn blooms shyly on the horizon. “Thank you.”</p><p>She feels Luz drawing circles on her arm, and with a smile she thinks that Muck was right: some time in the future, she would think back to this moment and thank him for insisting on spending that night curled up together.</p><p>Who cares about pneumonia, anyway?</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>- SOE had an infinite number of Stations, but the ones that Grace mentions at the beginning are <b>Station XII,</b> aka Research and Development of sabotage explosives and weapons and <b>Station XV</b> which was devoted to camouflage, which usually meant equipping agents with authentic local clothing and personal effects. They also also devised methods of hiding weapons, explosives or radios in innocuous-seeming items.</p><p>- Colonel Dobie truly threw a party in Nijmegen after Operation Pegasus and offered champagne to everybody!</p><p>- "A little powder and a little drink on the way, and I'd pass the German posts and wink and say, 'do you want to search me?' God, what a flirtatious little bastard I was" this is actually a TRUE quote from Nancy Wake!</p><p>hope to see you in the next chapter! &lt;3</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Power of Friendship</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelica_writes/pseuds/Angelica_writes">Angie</a> for beta reading this! This story would be nothing without you &lt;3<br/><b>this chapter is dedicated to all my friends out there.</b></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Grace, say that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace snorts for the umpteenth time at Muck's amused tone, who hasn’t given her any respite since she joined him and Malarkey that morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes, but the truth is she's not capable of even pretending to be annoyed at him for more than ten seconds, so she just gives him an exasperated snort that eventually turns into a lopsided grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sorry excuse of a man comes to me, looks at me intently and says, 'well, they didn’t tell me I was going to have an assistant, that seems fit for my rank! Can you bring me some coffee? Three spoonfuls of sugar should do.' That asshole... </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, an </span>
  <em>
    <span>assistant</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Who drinks coffee with three spoonfuls of sugar, anyway? That's insulting. And Johnny had to tell him I'm a corporal, can you believe that? Holy shit, and this pompous idiot has been here for barely three days. I miss Moose, already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two misfortunes had happened that week. Moose Heyliger was badly wounded by a sentry who mistook him for the enemy, but a few days later the news came that he was going to make it, and they were all relieved to hear that. But the fact remains that Easy had been deprived of yet another valid officer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following this, the second misfortune arrived with the name of Norman Dike, none other than the new captain of Easy Company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace and the rest of the men haven't gotten to know him properly yet, it's only been a few days since his arrival, but her first encounter with him was anything but positive. Mistaking her for an assistant? Grace is convinced his idiocy is not over yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only time will tell, but she sincerely hopes she's wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry excuse of a man, infamous assehole and pompous idiot,” Malarkey comments, shaking his head with a smile, “written and directed by Grace Whitehead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace fakes a thoughtful expression. “I forgot incompetent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know that,” Malarkey raises a brow.</span>
</p><p><span>“Come on, Don, just look at the man,” Muck</span> <span>snorts</span> <span>and Grace thanks him for that. “Anyway, I’m sorry, Grace. You know I’m always on your side, but can’t help but find it funny.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“You find everything funny, so I’m not surprised.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you bring him coffee, by the way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I didn’t!” Grace protests, ignoring her friends’ giggles. She eyes Muck and Grace can’t help but notice that he seems a little distracted today, which is unusual for him. Then she spots an open letter right on the table. “Did something happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muck looks up at her with his forehead furrowed. “Why?” he asks, then he follows her gaze and gives her a small smile. “Oh, no. Not really. Everything’s okay.”</span>
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  <span>“You sure?” Grace questions him, not at all convinced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. “Yeah, it’s just⎯ I’ve been sending my money home all this time, ya know. For Faye and I once I’ll be back. But I’m broke now, and I wanted to honeymoon in the Poconos.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace wasn't expecting that, and she feels her stomach twist a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skip, I’m truly sorry to hear that,” she says almost in a whisper, resting a hand on her friend’s arm. “I think I can help you with that, if you allow me? I don’t have much with me, but my husband was a businessman before entering the resistance. He put some of the money safe, I’ve never used it. Just, you know, I thought it’d be of some use one day… when this is all over, to go back to the States.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way, Grace,” Muck shakes his head in protest. “I won’t accept your money, or anybody’s money. It’s not fair. You’ll need it to start over. You earned that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure a few bucks won’t make me broke,” she smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace wants to help her friend; she can’t imagine how hard it must be to want to plan a future but not having the resources to actually do it. Grace has never struggled with money, on a material level Grace has always had everything: clothes, hot and hearty meals, an education. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn’t mind at all giving some of her money to her friend, because he deserves a wonderful wedding, a wonderful honeymoon and an even more wonderful home. He deserves all these things and in this very moment Grace makes a promise to herself: if once the war is over he still doesn’t have enough money to make his dream come true, she will help her friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t have a chance to have her own honeymoon, or even to fully enjoy marriage in general, but it would make her very happy knowing that one of her best friends did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I appreciate it a lot, but no need to worry about ‘ol Skip,” Muck reassures them. “Faye and I will be fine, promise. She’s incredible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, then,” Grace agrees, smiling. She looks up at Malarkey, finding him looking sadly at his friend. He and Muck are very close, Grace thinks they have the strongest bond in the company, and seeing his friend in that state - even though Muck is good at hiding his distress - must be so painful. It is for Grace, so she can’t imagine how it must be for Malarkey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace slowly approaches Muck and pulls him closer, wrapping her arms around him. Her hug is warm, and at first he almost jolts in surprise but then lets himself be cradled by her, basking in each other’s warmth. A sudden hug is very much unexpected from her, but that's what Grace felt was the right thing to do at that moment. However, she can't tell if her instinct told her to hug him to show, or because it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> who needed it.</span>
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  <span>She hopes he's feeling the same calmness because for a moment her worries disappear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, what’s that for?” Muck asks softly when she lets go of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t someone hug their favourite friend for no reason whatsoever?” Grace fakes an offended tone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you never do that, you took me by surprise,” Muck says gently, squeezing her arm. “Gotta love getting rid of that emotional wall of yours.”</span>
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  <span>“It takes me two seconds to put the bricks back up if you ever complain about my hugs ever again, Skip Muck,” Grace pinches his ear, as they start a friendly battle of limbs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I feel neglected!” Malarkey protests and both Grace and Muck laugh at him. </span>
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  <span>“You wanna fight, Don?” Grace asks, while trying to defend herself from Muck’s tickling. “Choose your enemies carefully!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spend some time playing, mostly enjoying each other's company. This is what keeps her going during these boring days; she can no longer remember what she once used to do during times like this, when there were uneventful days, days of waiting. </span>
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  <span>Grace doesn't understand how just a few months ago everything was so damn different. The war itself was different, the whole outline was different, her job was different and even she was different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only the enemy has always remained the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace remembers that there were days, sometimes even weeks, when nothing at all happened. Weeks in which she was forced into resistance hideouts, or simply wandered around her house waiting for orders. Weeks in which she found herself playing football with the kids in the French resistance, praying that something would happen sooner rather than later because the wait was too damn frustrating. What did she do besides playing football, playing cards and drinking? In all honesty, she can't bring herself to remember any of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How did she cope in those hard times without Muck, or Malarkey, or Luz, or all of her Easy Company comrades?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace has always had a great memory, but here and now, it’s all blurry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t believe what’s happening,” Malarkey grumbles at some point. “It’s raining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For fuck’s sake, this rain is such a pain in the ass. Why is it always raining in Holland? It almost never stopped in a week. And I thought England had bad weather,” Muck complains. </span>
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  <span>“It has to stop at some point,” Grace reassures them, fiddling with her belt. “I’m sure it will soon.”</span>
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  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
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</p><p>
  <span>The rain didn’t stop soon, or at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, it accompanies them during their entire stay in Holland. The foxholes are practically unlivable, they look like swimming pools, the smell of mud is now an everyday occurence and is unpleasantly imprinted in their nostrils. They keep moving all along and whenever they happen to spend time in farmhouses, it feels like luxury hotels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To make it worse, the British rations are horrible. Grace was curious to know if Perconte regrets their k-rations after all, but she never got a chance to ask him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Showers are now a distant memory, Grace has never been this long without having washed. She feels so filthy, it almost looks like she's wearing a different uniform because it's taken on a darker colour, due to the dirt and the fact they never wash. She feels ugly and exasperated and she just wishes they move out soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it goes on like that until they finally get to leave Holland at the end of November, although the journey to Mourmelon-le-Grand is dreadful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't know how to feel about returning to France. She's happy because she was fed up with Holland and the never ending rain, but France has been the setting of a lot of her suffering, and it feels to Grace like setting foot in a cemetery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as they set foot in Camp Mourmelon, their lives were immediately improved by showers, beds to sleep in and much better food. The thick, cold sheets of Grace's bed feel like paradise compared to the foxholes that have been her home for over a month.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a month of boredom, being in that camp is the closest thing to a normal life they have had recently. For many it's just the next holdover camp before the next jump, that’s rumored to be happening in spring. But at least for now there are hot showers, pretty decent food and some peace, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They do some training, but nothing too tiring. The men and Grace don't feel like doing much, after all the last two months have required a lot of physical and mental effort. But the calmness is balanced out by the constant frustration of not knowing yet what awaits them for the upcoming months. It looks like Germany is a step from defeat, but Grace has been dealing with the Germans for years by now and she just can't bring herself to feel relaxed. Not yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace is walking between the barracks with a book under her arm, noticing how pretty the sky looks today, how the blue is bright and soft all at once. Not even the magnificence of the bright, high sun in the sky can alleviate the bitter cold that's beginning to seize France's. The thermometer showed three degrees a few hours ago, as if to announce that winter is approaching faster.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't know why, but today she's hiding from everyone, she just needed a couple of hours away from her friends. So she had spent the last hour reading, sitting on the cold ground and with her back against the wall of a shack. Needless to say, she barely managed to read a chapter before her head began to get wrapped up in a whirlwind of thoughts once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace has just turned the corner when an unpleasant voice interrupts her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Private Whiteleg,” the voice says and Grace squints in disbelief before turning to Lieutenant Dike. “Private Whiteleg, where do you think you're going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace chews on her lip, biting back an insult and trying to use a tone as calm as possible. “I don’t know about Private Whiteleg, but I, Corporal Whitehead, am heading to lunch, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dike doesn't seem to have caught the information, he just stands there with the hands on his hips, staring at her as if he’s expecting her to bring him that coffee from a month ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is how it is: everyone has come to the conclusion that the new leader of Easy Company is the king of incompetents and that Grace was sadly right about him. Grace has known a lot of people like him and it took little time for everyone to understand that he’s ineffective.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s there, but at the same time he isn’t. Dike is an empty uniform and Grace hopes that, as long as he will be their leader, they won't be called on for combat, as it would likely mean the decimation of the company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, go on then,” Dike says, “remember to stop by and drop my mail after that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What mail, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The mail!” he tells her impatiently, as if it was obvious. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sir, I hate to break it to you, but I'm a fucking sniper, and snipers deliver death, not mail, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grace wants to answer, but what escapes her mouth is a very filtered version of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, I'm a sniper,” she replies grudgingly. “If you're expecting the mail you should go find Private Vest, sir. I think he's in those barracks over there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time Dike saw Grace, he thought she was a man: with the helmet and the face half in the shade it was understandable, she can’t blame him for that. The first time he properly met her, he thought she was going to be his assistant and that's something Grace can't comprehend. Now, he thinks she’s a freaking errand boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During their month in Holland, none of the men of Easy had much of a chance to get to know their commander better. After some time, they came to the conclusion that not having him around was a blessing, but at the same time it was very bad because a lieutenant is supposed to be there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Easy Company almost seemed to have no guide, no leader. The non-commissioned officers took care of everyone from the moment he set foot in the company, organised patrols and the like. After two weeks, the guys were already calling him Foxhole Norman behind his back. It was funny, but also sad because they don't deserve such a worthless leader.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if this wasn’t bad enough, Bill Guarnere had been evacuated to England the first week of November, because he decided to pretend he knew how to ride a motorcycle when he had actually never been on one. The result was disastrous, with him injuring his leg. Malarkey had taken over 2nd platoon while Guarnere is absent, and he’s doing a very good job, although Grace can tell that he finds it stressful.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need anything else, sir?” Grace asks at one point when it's clear that Dike is truly confused. He has this face crumpled up almost as if she had spoken to him in an unknown language and he's trying to force his brain to translate. “Can I go have lunch now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, you’re dismissed,” he gestures, shaking his head. “I need to make a call, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he walks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace shakes her head, thinking that Easy Company is in deep shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes follow Dike as he disappears behind the corner, when she sees Cobb walking by. He shoots her a mischievous look and, as if that weren’t enough, he also winks. She just blinks at him, glad  that at least this time he has a gun in his hands and not a plate of sardines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace laughs at herself, wondering what Webster would say if he was here. But he isn’t, he’s still at the hospital after he got wounded back in Holland, and God knows when he will be back. Grace misses their chats, his wit and his company in general. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gets lost in her thoughts again and doesn't even realise right away that she’s not alone anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something interesting over there?” Welsh asks as he joins her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, stop it, you make me blush,” he comments, grinning, resting a hand on his heart. “I’m sure that’s not even true. If I didn't know you well, I'd say you're trying to suck up to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve just had yet another awkward and unnecessary conversation with Foxhole Norman and Cobb keeps winking at me whenever we meet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I might be a beautiful thing compared to that, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Welsh smiles faintly, and together they start walking towards the mess facility, although it’s still a little early for lunch. She enjoys the opportunity to spend a little more time with Welsh, because they haven't seen each other much lately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Welsh asks her. “You seem a little down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay, I guess,” she says, not believing herself much. Almost as if those words were an invisible lever, Grace suddenly feels like confessing her concerns. “It’s just, it’s this whole situation, you know. They’re all so calm, as if this was a holiday. But the war’s not over yet. And I’m worried so fucking much that if something happens, if we get to move out again, it’ll be under Dike’s command. It makes me sick in the stomach because I’ve already experienced something like that with SOE. Back then, I was able to relieve incompetent officers and take over the mission, but obviously I won’t be able to do that with Dike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another officer will,” Welsh says, his voice firm. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>If </span>
  </em>
  <span>something happens, that is. You already have your own troubled thoughts to deal with, why do you take on this burden that's not yours to carry?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s who I am, Harry,” Grace lets out a soft, sad smile. “And I mean no disrespect, but I’ve been here before you all. I’ve been fighting this war for more than four years. I’ve seen stuff, I’ve met people… Perhaps I’m good at hiding it, but I worry every fucking day. About everything. Because you see, the moment you loosen up a bit, is when you’re the most vulnerable. And I’m afraid now we all are so very vulnerable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Welsh smiles softly, and he reminds her of her aunt Cathy’s smile. The one she used to give her when she was little, when she used to come to Lancaster once a year and was forced to witness Grace's parents ignore their daughter the whole time. It was a pity smile, and now Welsh is giving one to her just like her aunt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re stronger than you think, Grace,” Welsh declares, intertwining his hands together behind his back. “The guys know that. And they’re strong too, you know, if anything happens, you can at least rely on each other. Yes, Dike is not really… a reassuring presence, let’s put it like that. I suggest you worry less about it. After all for what we know we could spend three or four months here. Just waiting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry, he asked me to bring his mail earlier. Me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, crap, really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m Private Whiteleg to him,” Grace adds, rolling her eyes so hard it almost hurts. “At least he’s not calling me ‘you’ anymore. You should’ve seen his face when I told him I’m a sniper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, why am I always late to these things?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, how come you’re always in the right place, at the right time? You always magically appear when I have the strangest conversations. Do you sense them?” Grace nudges his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s true. Whenever she feels upset or has just had an odd conversation - like the one she had with Heyliger when he questioned her about his cousin at SOE - suddenly there he is at her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I say, I’m psychic,” he shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever conversation they have, she always feels better after talking to Welsh. He proved to be a true friend from the start, and Grace doesn’t forget these kinds of things. But even though she feels a little lighter, she can't deny that an odd sensation of fear is still hidden inside her. As if she's expecting something inevitable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace can feel the fear in her chest waiting to take over. Perhaps it only wants to protect her, but there really isn't any danger at the moment. It sits there, like an angry ball propelling her towards an anxiety that she just doesn't need. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air is strangely sweet, the weather is fine, it's cold, there are birds chirping in the sky. Nothing to worry about, Grace tells herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finally manages to reach the mess facility, where she knows the men will come soon enough. There's something about being with them that evaporates her fear, it feels like a cure to her anxiousness. It works like that most of the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace had thought no one would be there yet because it's a bit early for lunch, but as soon as she spots Luz, Hoobler and Liebgott sitting on a bench, she feels her body already beginning to relax.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace scans the field quickly, looking for someone who stands in the best position: Liebgott is definitely in the wrong position, Sisk is too covered by More and Grace doesn't feel like taking the risk; Lipton is circled heavily by Martin and Shifty, and Perconte isn't even an option. Grace eventually decides to pass the ball to Talbert, who, even though he's covered by Heffron, still seems to be the best choice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With impressive footwork Grace hadn't expected to see, Talbert slips the ball past Heffron and under Popeye's legs, and then kicks it straight into the goal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talbert spreads his arms and makes a sluggishly run around the goal, pretending to be an airplane and then goes straight to Grace with a huge smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who knew you could play soccer that well, peach,” he tells her, his tone quite surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to think that Smokey asked me if I wanted to be your cheerleader,” Grace grins. “Anyway, I need to thank the kids in the French Resistance for that. Don’t ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a time when she often played soccer with kids. It seems like a lifetime ago. One of the kids at the French Resistance, Julién, had been so persistent in wanting to teach her to play that after a while she had given in. After some practice, she had to admit that she was doing pretty well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In those early days of December, the Easy Company men often find themselves playing soccer around the camp. It helps them keep busy and warm, and to just pass the time. After watching her friends playing a few times, Grace decided that she wanted to try her fledgling sporting skills out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Grace, well played,” Lipton approaches, nodding at her while wiping some of the dirt off his face. “Tell me you’re also good at football and we might have a chance to win the Christmas game, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A football match was going to be held for Christmas Day between the 506th and 502nd, and someone decided to call it Champagne Bowl - Grace has to admit that the person who came up with that name is nothing but a genius. The first thing she thought when the game was announced a few days earlier was that she would finally be able to spend Christmas different to the usual. Perhaps it might be her best Christmas in twenty two years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry to disappoint, Lip,” she says, sighing. “Never been a fan. I’ll be cheerleading, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can teach you,” Talbert suggests, grinning to himself as if he had the most wonderful idea. Which it is not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thinking about it, that doesn’t seem like a good idea, Tab,” Lipton steps in, looking uncertain. “No offense, Grace, but you’re quite tiny. Don’t wanna have you back in the hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None taken,” she reassures him. “I’ve always thought that football was an unnecessary battle over who breaks a limb first. So I appreciate you wanting to include me, Tab, but I guess I'll pass this time. If they decide to have a soccer tournament on New Year's Eve, though, count me in!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, I hope they will!” he comments while doing some dribbling, then he passes the ball to Lipton. “Hey, Shifty! Popeye! Come do some dribbling with us!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The game is over, but Grace keeps playing with them for a little longer. First they get in a circle and do some passing, then they decide to kick penalties, with Lipton as a goalkeeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace has just scored a goal when she spots Malarkey coming towards them through the field.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, fellas,” he says, a little short of breath. “Can I borrow Grace for a minute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as you’ll bring her back by the time we have a rematch,” Talbert shrugs, and Grace pinches him on the arm. “We need her skills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You selling me like that, Tab?” she blurts out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>lending </span>
  </em>
  <span>you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace kicks the ball in Talbert’s direction, aiming at his crotch. Luckily for him, he was fast enough to grab himself right before the ball reached him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sticks out her tongue at Talbert, which he returns it with a big, mocking smile. Grace then nods goodbye to the others as she follows Malarkey out of the field. His expression isn’t necessarily worrying, but strange.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s up, Malark?” Grace asks. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he answers distractedly, looking around suspiciously. “I need to ask you a favour. I mean, it’s not really a favour, it’s about Skip. Okay, it might come off as a favour, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Malarkey remains silent after that, Grace encourages him to continue with a nod of the head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know he had to pay some debts recently, right?” Malarkey starts, looking directly into her eyes. Grace nods again. “Please, don’t tell him I said that, but he’s got just $60 left at the moment. I was going back to the house earlier, when I saw the usual six playing dice and I got an idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, man, you already lost like $100 last week!” Grace scolds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen!” he protests. “You know Woodrow Robbins?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s in my platoon, Don.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a professional, okay?” Malarkey continues, gesturing as if he’s explaining the most basic thing in the world. “And he’s in for the game. We just have to⎯”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Grace interrupts him. “You know I don’t gamble, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, let me finish! As I was saying, I want to win. Firstly, I want my $100 back, and secondly… I want us to put in some money for Skip. Since he won’t accept any of our savings, at least this won’t be really our money, right? If we win, I’ll hand you back your part, I keep mine, and we give the rest to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace feels a little surprised, because she didn't expect this at all. She knows they all like playing, hell take gambling away from soldiers and might as well take everything from them. She also knows that recently both Muck and Malarkey had lost money rather than won it, so she's surprised that Malarkey came up with this idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace feels a smile appearing on her face, which is strange because the words 'dice' and 'game' in the same sentence are not something she usually enjoys hearing. But this is Muck, and she can't deny the idea is so enticing that Grace finds herself nodding before she can argue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, yeah,” she mumbles, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m in. But, what if we lose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We won’t!” Malarkey almost jumps with joy. “We won’t, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hours later, Grace finds herself at a table in the house where the sergeants are staying, squeezed between Malarkey and a replacement. She has never understood anything about gambling, much less when it's about dice, but at that moment she concentrates as if her life depends on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She really wants Skip to have his honeymoon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She's willing to make some minor sacrifices, like putting $30 on the table and hoping that Robbins is indeed a professional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the game progresses, she starts to understand the nuances of it, although it still remains a language largely unknown to her. But Grace does find it oddly fun to see the men risking it all for a few pieces of plastic that give the wrong numbers, and it's even more fun to hear her friends scream with joy every time they win a hand. Grace soon finds herself rejoicing with them, even if she doesn't always realise immediately when they win. But who cares, every time Malarkey screams, she follows him suit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For Muck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Grace, you truly are a lucky charm,” Robbins says happily as they exit the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace rolls her eyes. “An assistant, a gofer, a cheerleader and now a lucky charm. What else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robbins frowns in confusion, but gives her a small smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at this,” Malarkey is looking at the money in his hands as if it were gold bars, his eyes slightly bulging with emotion. “Here’s your half, Wood. Grace, this is yours and I keep $100 that I lost the other week, plus $30 from today. I owe some to Penkala and Luz.” Grace frowns, wondering how he managed to accumulate all these debts. “And the rest is for Skip. I think $2,290 should be enough to marry five times and for a month's honeymoon in the Poconos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace can't describe the pleasant sensation that's forming in her stomach. She's so happy that they won, overjoyed that their friend can send all that money home for a nest egg for him and Faye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels as happy as a shark in a shoal of sea bream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though it’s almost midnight, they decide to give him the money straight away because they’re so excited they can’t wait until tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes them ten minutes to find Muck, having a cigarette with Luz next to a barrack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skip!” Grace shouts, not caring about the loud tone at that time of night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buddy,” Malarkey smiles as they approach the duo. “Been looking for you for ages.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, hello to you two, too,” Luz complains, making them all laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Luz,” Grace greets him, settling herself between him and Muck. “I’m sorry, it’s just, something happened! And we’re really excited about it, and wanted to share it with him straight away. And with you, since you’re here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s some super secret information I can make myself vanish, ya know,” Luz raises a brow and Grace can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, so she immediately intertwines her arm into his and gives him a soft smile. Luz seems to be quite content with that silent response, so he leans back on the wall, lighting himself another cigarette. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Muck questions, throwing the cigarette butt on the ground and putting it out with his foot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace moves her gaze from Muck to Malarkey, the latter’s eyes glistening. He reaches into his pocket and takes out the wad of notes, then gives Luz a couple of bills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here’s the amount I owe you, I’m sorry it took so long,” Malarkey apologises as Luz takes the money with a whistle. “This,” he continues, turning to Muck, handing him a few notes, “is what I borrowed from you last week.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muck raises an eyebrow, surprised. “Wow, you’re paying me back? That’s surely something exciting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this,” Malarkey says, shoving what’s left of the money into Muck’s hand, “is mine and Grace’s present for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muck is astonished, and Grace laughs a little. His surprised look is so funny and satisfying that she almost feels like crying. Muck takes the money reluctantly, and his gaze switches first to Malarkey and then to Grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys, we already talked about this,” he says quietly. “I admire your perseverance, but I can’t accept your money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is not our money, my friend,” Grace says happily. “Not really. We won it at dice! We won it for you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>If possible, his expression turns even funnier. “You won it gambling? </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>never gamble, Grace. What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I let the men do the dirty work, to be honest,” she shrugs. “I just put my part in it. And supported them, obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Malarkey agrees. “With a little help from Robbins. We won $5,000, but he took his half of course, and I took some that I owed people and this is what’s left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit, are you kidding me? Hell, with this Faye and I can honeymoon in the Poconos for a month!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace laughs out loud at her friend’s reaction, partly because it’s exactly what Malarkey said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But guys, I don’t know if I can accept this…” he adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you can,” Malarkey insists. “You must. Or else I’ll throw them in the mud and no one will have them. Your choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing her friend so happy and knowing that she's partly the cause of it is an indescribable feeling. But he deserves it, and even more. Muck throws himself into Grace's arms. She holds him tight for what seems like an infinite time, his slightly too long hair gently tickling her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys, you’re amazing,” Muck says, looking down at the money still in his hands. “I don’t know how to thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t even mention it,” Grace smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, Skip, what did you do to get these two giving you all that money?” Luz breaks off a laugh, raising a brow at Grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was broke,” he shrugs, still smiling widely. “And I’ve got to get married, so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should work on the latter, then,” Luz decides, smirking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, good luck with that, dummy,” Grace says, earning a glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys,” Muck interrupts their banter, his gaze slowly moving from the money he’s still holding, to his friends. “Guys, how do you feel about being my best men and best woman? It’d be such an honour for me to have you there. When the time comes, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace is so surprised by that statement that she feels her jaw drop a little. Malarkey displays a huge smile on his face, obviously surprised too but happy, and when she turns to Luz she finds him already looking at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that moment there with them, Grace realises something that she hasn't thought about in a long time. She has always remained focused on the war, on the missions, on her purpose. She never thought about what to do once this is all over. Sure, the first thing she wants to do is to find her parents and tell everything she has been through in recent years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what about after that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her best friend's wedding seems ideal to her. It's impressive that even in these dark and rough times, one is able to think of something as beautiful and full as the union with their loved one. Certainly for some men it's precisely what helps them to carry on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, man,” Luz says excitedly, “that’s a big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you for real?” Grace asks, and her eyes can’t seem to leave Muck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just shrugs. “Yeah, I’m serious. That is, if you feel like it. No pressure. I just wish my best friends would be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course we will be there!” Malarkey exclaims, and Grace thinks it’s been a long time since she’s seen him that happy. “Right, guys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace nods fervently. “Hell yes! Couldn’t miss you getting hitched for anything in the world, brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The freezing cold of those early December days don’t seem to bother her at the moment because the warmth she feels in her heart is enough to protect her. It's wholesome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their bond is wholesome.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's that kind of friendship that blooms in the center of the heart. It's the love that makes doors in emotional brick walls, as Grace well knows.</span>
</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>» info «</p><p>- based on Malarkey's book, <i>"Easy Company Soldier"</i>, the fact that Skip Muck was broke all the time is true, lol. It's true that he had to pay some debts and that he used to send money home for a nest egg for him and Faye. One day Malarkey felt lucky, he asked Skip for $60 because, his words, <i>"loan me your dough and I'll triple it for both of us."</i> So he went play with Woodrow Robbins and they won $5,000! Malarkey gave back $60 to Skip plus a $500 tip - which they also put it in the show. The phrase <i>"Are you kidding me? Hell, with this Faye and I can honeymoon in the Poconos for a month!"</i> also comes from Malarkey's book :'(</p><p>- it's true that during their stay in Holland, it rained ALL the time! They kept moving around the country foxhole after foxhole, living off British' k-rations, no showers, no nothing. It was a really rough month for the men.</p><p>- in Malarkey's book he says the journey to Mourmelon-le-Grand lasted 14 hours, in Shifty's book it says it was 36; I did some digging and it was actually a 36-hour truck journey, omg.</p><p>- until now you all seen Grace as (almost) fearless, a little bit reckless, but here you can see she starts to worry about the future and about the company. It's because she's been at war for so long, she knows you can never let your guard down even though it seems like it'll be over soon; she's worried because some of the men truly feel like it's some kind of holiday before jumping into Berlin, she's worried because if something happens they'll have an useless leader. She's worried because she managed to get rid of that emotional barrier and somehow it all seems... louder, if that makes sense? Ngl this aspect of her character I based it off myself, and this is just how it feels. Sometimes it's not easy putting it into words, so I hope you understand her anyway!</p><p>- they didn't say this in the show, but the football game on Christmas Day was truly called the Champagne Bowl!</p><p>hope to see you at the next chapter! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. My Little Sister</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as aways thank you <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelica_writes/pseuds/Angelica_writes">Angie</a> for beta reading this and supporting me always &lt;3<br/>ALSO, she made me <a href="https://hellitwasyoufirstsergeant.tumblr.com/post/634983604865384448/a-lil-something-i-made-about-wecomradess-oc-for">this beautiful moodboard</a> for Grace, go check it out! I'm still in awe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Oh Miss Grace was her name, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Through the Camp Mourmelon she won her fame, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Being handy with the gun, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But she drove the men insane, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> 'Cause she'd whip out her rifle, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And shoot at that Cobb guy, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And sing out this alibi. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I didn't know the gun was loaded, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And I'm so sorry, my friend, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I didn't know the gun was loaded, </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And I'll never, never do it again.” </em>
</p><p>This has been going on for at least three days now, and wherever Grace goes, she’s greeted by this song. She shamelessly enjoys it, and she wonders how long it will take until the trend will pass.</p><p>It all started a few days back, when Grace had been sitting in blissful peace outside the mess, cleaning her rifle with care. A little farther away stood a handful of replacements, intent on reading a map.</p><p>At one point Cobb and a friend of his from 3rd platoon exited the mess hall and immediately headed for the newcomers. They weren’t close, but Grace could hear bits of their conversation, during which Cobb had been doing nothing but showing off in front of them. Grace can't stand that kind of behavior, especially towards replacements because they already start disadvantaged, because veterans are not always inclined to befriend them. </p><p>Nonchalantly, Grace took aim and fired her weapon right between Cobb's legs, nearly sending him flying through the air in fright.</p><p>“I'm sorry, I didn't know the gun was loaded,” she had shouted, waving a hand. </p><p>Everybody who had been present erupted into a loud laughter, both because Cobb’s face, paler than moonlight, was priceless, and because they understood that she did it on purpose to teach him a lesson.</p><p>One thing is certain: Cobb would never offer her sardines again, and not even mischievous looks. Well, Grace can live with that.</p><p>She would never have believed that the event would cause such a sensation, but by the end of the day the entire regiment knew what happened.</p><p>Smokey Gordon hadn't missed the opportunity to twist the lyrics of <em> I Didn't Know the Gun Was Loaded </em> to make it fit with Grace, and from that day on, wherever she goes, there’s someone humming that song.</p><p>Grace is headed to supper, passing through a handful of soldiers from Dog Company, who immediately start chanting that song as soon as they see her. She just smiles, salutes them, and keeps going on her way when she hears a familiar voice calling her name.</p><p>“Hey, Whitehead.”</p><p>Grace turns around and her eyes meet none other than Peter Baranowski.</p><p>“Peter! I mean, lieutenant,” she exclaims, finding herself excited. “It’s been a while. How you holding up?”</p><p>Peter bounds up to her, smiling. “Regular, I guess,” he answers calmly, looking at his men and then back to Grace. “Catchy tune, eh?”</p><p>Grace lets out a little laugh, slightly embarrassed. “Well, I’d be hypocritical if I didn't admit that I kinda like it.”</p><p>“Well, I think it suits you.”</p><p>“Mind you, I take it as a compliment,” Grace admits. “If it’s not weird of me to ask, wanna grab something to eat? I was just heading to supper.”</p><p>Peter thinks about it only for a moment and then accepts gladly, and together they reach the mess.</p><p>It's still a bit early so there aren't many people, but Grace immediately spots Muck and Penkala sitting in a corner, gorging happily on bread. As if he felt her presence, Penkala turns his head and gives her a big smile, waving a hand, causing Muck to look up too, although he looks a little perplexed at seeing her with a lieutenant he’s never seen before. </p><p>Grace and Peter set their plates on a table, sitting opposite each other.</p><p>“So, I see you cut your mustache,” Grace observes. “It was funny. Very characteristic.”</p><p>“I grew bored of it, just thought about a little change, ya know.”</p><p>Grace has recently thought about getting a trim too. She’s always loved her thick brown hair, but the days of lipstick and pretty hair are long gone. It’s also quite uncomfortable in war, especially when one is forced to spend months huddled up in muddy foxholes.</p><p>Perhaps she will ask Liebgott if he's up for the job.</p><p>“I can picture you wearing one of those mohawk hairstyles,” she wonders, making him laugh into his mashed potatoes. “So, Mad Russian, how are your men holding up?” Grace then asks, stuffing a large forkful of string beans in her mouth. “And what about Jaint de Montmorency? Wow, didn’t think I’d remember your dog's fancy name.”</p><p>“Ha! He’s okay, better than us, probably,” he says, nodding. “The men are fine, really. Some look like they’re living the life, some are just a bit stressed, I suppose.”</p><p>“Yeah, don’t tell me.” Grace lays her gaze on the plate, moving the fork up and down, separating the beans from the mashed potato. “You were right, you know. Back then. Our mind is indeed our worst enemy, after all. Truer words were never spoken.”</p><p>He doesn't answer right away, and she continues to stare at the plate as if expecting the beans to jump into her mouth on their own.</p><p>“How’s the wound?” he just asks casually.</p><p>“It’s healing well. It did give me some trouble during the battle of the Island, but nothing too unbearable. It was mostly because of foxholes, you know. Staying crouched up was even more annoying than going on patrols, or fighting,” Grace answers.</p><p>A thin line forms in Peter’s forehead. “The battle of the Island? Weren’t you still in the hospital at the time?”</p><p>Grace shakes her head. “Doctor discharged me right after you. Didn’t complain, to be honest. I was going nuts, I just wanted to be back with the men.”</p><p>“I see,” he frowns a little, but there’s a glint of admiration in his eyes. “I guess now⎯”</p><p>“Hey, Grace!”</p><p>All of a sudden Grace finds herself squeezed between Muck and Penkala, as both of them slide next to her like two excited squirrels. Muck pats her shoulder a little too vigorously, then his gaze falls to her plate; Grace knows how much Muck loves mashed potato.</p><p>“Guys, this is Lieutenant Baranowski from D Company,” Grace introduces them.</p><p>“You’re the lieutenant with the dog,” Penkala exclaims. His sentence started as a question but then became more of a statement. “The Crazy Russian.”</p><p>“Mad Russian, Penk.”</p><p>“Isn’t it the same thing?” Penkala lifts a brow.</p><p>“That’d be me,” Peter smirks, glancing at Grace as if to say 'I see you told your friends about me'. “The best paratrooper in the Airborne. I mean the dog, not me.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sure he is!” Muck comments, making everyone laugh. Then turns to Grace, lowering his voice a little. “Sorry for interrupting, Grace, wouldn’t want <em> someone </em> to get jealous over you and the big guy here.”</p><p>Grace’s forehead creases. “What on earth are you talking about?” </p><p>Muck shrugs, finally stealing a forkful of mashed potato from her plate. Grace has no idea what they’re on about, but decides it's best if she just let it go. After another glance at Muck, watching him as he slowly eats up most of her dinner, she turns her gaze to Peter who's diving into deep conversation with Penkala.</p><p>They spend a cheerful evening in the company of Peter, who's even more likeable than Grace remembered. Her friends seem to think that too, given they never stopped chuckling since they joined her and Peter’s table.</p><p>There were a couple of rudimentary movie theatres around Camp Mourmelon. They don't run movies every night, just a couple times a week, but it's a good distraction. That night they're going to play <em> The Philadelphia Story </em>, and Grace isn't one to miss a Cary Grant movie when offered. She asks Peter if he would like to join them, but he has work to be getting on with.</p><p>When they finally decide to leave the mess, Grace makes him promise that next time he would finally introduce the dog. </p><p>“See you around, Whitehead,” Peter bids goodbye, slightly bowing his head to her and saluting both Muck and Penkala. “You still owe me your story.”</p><p>Muck takes Grace gently by the arm, intertwining it with his own and all three together make their way to the movie.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Grace is walking towards the CP when she almost jumps in surprise when she sees who’s exiting the building.</p><p>“Bill!”</p><p>Bill Guarnere looks up and a wide smile spreads across his face as he sees her running to him. Grace throws her arms around his neck, feeling him hesitating for a moment before letting himself go fully into the embrace. Guarnere holds her tight for a while, then they both pull away and she just stares at him for a few seconds, so glad that he's finally back. His absence was felt strongly by the men, weighing on the entire company, and mostly by Grace. </p><p>“Look who it is, it’s my kid!” he exclaims, giving her another quick hug. “I couldn’t have asked for a better welcome home.”</p><p>“How are you? How’s the leg?”</p><p>“Ah, yeah, it’s fine,” Guarnere cuts her questions short, waving distractedly. “Thought the worst thing would be my screwed up leg, but I hadn't yet come to terms with how things are in field hospitals. It ain’t pretty out there, lemme tell you. I had to go AWOL, I was going nuts. And I missed my Smarty.”</p><p>“I know how it is. Been there, done that, remember?” Grace says softly. “But you’re back now! Let’s find some fun! Pretty sure the boys wouldn’t stand a chance of winning the Christmas football game without you. Please don’t tell them I said that?”</p><p>Guarnere nods sincerely. “Your secret’s safe with me, sis. Those 502nd fuckers will regret even coming up with the idea.”</p><p>“Actually, it was our idea.”</p><p>“Oh, well, they’re gonna regret something anyway, we’ll see to that.”</p><p>“Wait, you just called me <em> sis?” </em></p><p>“Did I?” He fakes a surprised reaction, but then pinches her cheek and hugs her for the third time. Grace doesn't mind one bit. “You are, though. Our little sister.”</p><p>“Or big sister, in your case.”</p><p>“Well, I’m taller. End of discussion, miss.”</p><p>“I missed you, Bill,” Grace just laughs at him, poking his shoulder. “See you later?”</p><p>Guarnere gives her another bright smile, ruffling her hair a little. He gives her another affectionate pinch on the cheek and then walks away. </p><p>“And do us all a favour, stay away from anything that has wheels!” Grace shouts and he just raises a hand as confirmation.</p><p>When Grace enters the building she's immediately greeted by Zielinski, who accompanies her to a room just around the corner right away. As soon as she steps into the room, she's welcomed by the excited voices of Welsh and Nixon, while Richard just gives her a big smile from behind the desk.</p><p>Seeing all three of them standing there makes her somehow happier and she feels a grin spreading on her face.</p><p>“You brought us some coffee?” Nixon asks and it takes Grace a moment to figure out that he's referring to Lieutenant Dike. She rolls her eyes, shaking her head as the men start laughing. Apparently the news travels fast. “Or the mail?”</p><p>She glares at Welsh, who shrugs innocently, before answering. “Just my rifle, today, I’m afraid. I'm better at it than making coffee, wanna see?”</p><p>“Witty,” Nixon smirks widely, “I like it.”</p><p>“At least after what happened with Cobb the other day, Dike’ll finally be able to remember your name,” Welsh teases.</p><p>“I clearly missed something here,” Nixon frowns, his eyes darting curiously from her to Welsh.</p><p>“Come on, Lew, don’t tell me you didn’t hear the better version of <em> I Didn’t Know the Gun Was Loaded </em>in the past few days.”</p><p>“Who hasn’t?” he scoffs. “But what has it to do with Dike?”</p><p>“Yeah, well, he wasn’t happy I shot at one of ours,” Grace shrugs, and Welsh doesn’t even try to suppress another giggle. “Someone must’ve told him. He had me on latrine duty for a week. Took him two days to finally have my last name stuck to him. Took him the entire week to figure out it was my turn at the latrines, anyway.”</p><p>Nixon bursts into loud laughter, Grace has never seen him cackling this hard, and the odd sound of his laugh makes her want to follow his suit. </p><p>“That man, I swear to God,” Welsh shakes his head, then his gaze rests on Grace, in memory of their last conversation in which she expressed her disappointment in the behavior of their new commander.</p><p>“Yeah, well, I wouldn't mind giving Smokey a chance to come up with another song. I'm always fiddling with my M1, you know, my fingers could... accidentally slip on the trigger when Foxhole Norman is around,” she quips. </p><p>“So that’s true they call him that,” Nixon is still recovering from the laugh. “Thought you made that up, Harry.”</p><p>“I never make things up.”</p><p>“Yeah, right.”</p><p>Grace can’t help but smile at them, because they sound like two kids. She loves them.</p><p>“Do you want a cup of tea, Grace?” Richard interrupts their banter. “I can have Zielinski make you one.”</p><p>Grace shakes her head. “No, thanks, Rich. I just came by to say hello.”</p><p>“What’s with this discrimination, Dick, you never have Zielinski make us tea,” Nixon protests.</p><p>“That’s because you already demand coffee <em> and </em>sandwiches whenever you come here, as if it was a restaurant,” is his calm reply. </p><p>“Touché.”</p><p>“Well, I oughta go,” Welsh says while standing up and stretching a little. “Kitty’s last letter needs a response. I’ll see you around, guys.”</p><p>“I’ll come too,” Nixon follows him, then stops in front of Grace. “Oh, Grace, try to restrain yourself from killing your own platoon members.”</p><p>“I’ll try, sir,” Grace smiles, and smiles even harder when she sees Welsh mouthing <em> unless they’re Cobb. </em></p><p>The two make their way to the exit, Nixon giving her a salute before disappearing behind the door. Grace stares at the spot where they disappeared for a few seconds, then turns to Richard and fixes herself onto the closest chair.</p><p>“So,” Richard starts, fiddling with some of the papers that are sprawled on the desk, “is Lieutenant Dike giving you trouble? Latrines aside.” </p><p>“No,” she’s quick in her response, “he just can’t seem to wrap his head around the fact there’s a woman in his company. He always mistakes me for an errand boy. But I don’t think it’s personal.”</p><p>Richard nods, but doesn't seem convinced at all. Grace told the truth, or at least what she thinks is the truth. After all, she can't really tell why Dike always seems to be bothered by her presence, especially because he's never even around.</p><p>“How about you?” she queries, plastering a smile onto her face. “How are things up here?”</p><p>“Quiet as per usual,” Richard nods. “No news. But, I’ve just found out I’ve got a 48-hour pass. Courtesy of Lew.”</p><p>“What a man,” Grace says happily. “That sounds fun! You deserve some peace.”</p><p>The corner of his mouth quirks up, his eyes settling on the desk before setting them on her once again.</p><p>“Actually, I was wondering if you wanna come to Paris with me.”</p><p>Grace is speechless. There’s a moment where her face must have washed blank with confusion, like the cogs in her brain couldn't turn fast enough to take in the question. Richard must have registered the shock on her face before she could get a chance to hide it. A small smile plays on his lips, as he waits for her to answer.</p><p>“Oh, Rich,” Grace tries eventually, “sorry, I zoned out for a moment.”</p><p>He smiles . “Yeah, I noticed.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, it’s just, I didn’t expect you asking me to come with you. I was just surprised,” she apologies, her tone slightly higher than usual.</p><p>“Oh, I didn’t mean⎯ <em> you know, </em>” Richard explains, a little embarrassed. “I just wanted to see if you’d like to spend some time together. Like back in Lancaster, away from all this.”</p><p>“I know! I just felt a bit overwhelmed for a moment, that’s all. But it’s not your fault, Rich, it wasn’t anything you said,” Grace can’t help but feel stupid because he’s just trying to be nice. To be a friend. “Thank you for that,” Grace says then, a small smile forms shyly on her face. “But I think I’ll pass.”</p><p>“Why?” Richard asks, and his surprised tone suggests that he was probably expecting a different answer. “Is something wrong?”</p><p>“No, nothing’s wrong,” she shakes her head quickly. “It’s just⎯ I rather stay here, you know. And sincerely I don’t feel like going back to Paris yet. I’ve never been there since… since he died.”</p><p>Richard remains silent, a sympathetic silence. Grace knows him and knows he won't insist on it, but indeed because she knows him well she also suspects that he thinks she's making the wrong choice by not facing the ghosts of her past. He's certainly right, but Grace prefers doing her own way, this time. There will come a time when she will have to face it, but the time hasn’t come. Not yet.</p><p>“Besides,” Grace adds before he can say anything, “you could use a break, you know. From everything. From all this, from that desk. From people.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Richard confirms, glancing towards the window. “But just so you know, I meant it. I’d love to go to Paris with you, so if you change your mind, Gracie, you have until tomorrow.”</p><p>“I won’t,” she smiles. “But thank you.”</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Loud and joyful laughter echoes through the pub. Grace can feel it in her lungs, she’s so hard that her breath comes in quick gasps between her unstoppable giggles. Tears gather in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over.</p><p>It's a Saturday night and the NCO club is much emptier than usual, probably because <em> Seven Sinners </em> is broadcasting in the movie theater and everyone in the regiment goes for Marlene Dietrich.</p><p>Grace is sitting at a table with Hoobler, Shifty and Popeye and she's laughing so hard she's sure the beer will spurt out of her nose.</p><p>“You okay, Grace?” Hoobler asks between giggles, but he’s laughing even harder than she is. </p><p>“Not really, no,” she manages to mumble, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I can’t believe you did that, Pop. It’s the funniest thing I’ve heard recently.”</p><p>“You shoulda seen him,” Shifty shakes his head, a grin spreading from one eye to the other. “It was quite the scene.”</p><p>“Oh boy, we were so wasted,” Popeye affirms, sipping on his beer. “I don’t even remember how it all started.”</p><p>“Me neither,” Shifty shakes his head, “but I can’t shake the image of you throwing that cat at that waiter. I don’t know who shrieked the loudest, the cat or the waiter.”</p><p>Another round of laughter fills the room, with Grace unable to control herself and spitting beer onto the table. The noise that bursts from her mouth is like a cross between a snort and a drunken laugh.</p><p>“Shi-fty,” Grace stutters, more tears coming from her eyes. “S-stop. I can’t⎯ I can see the scene in my head.”</p><p>“We’re losing her,” Shifty sighs, trying to suppress another laugh. </p><p>“Oh, no, please,” Hoobler pleads, hiccupping. “My foxhole partner!”</p><p>“You’ll have plenty of others to choose from,” Popeye shrugs, nudging Grace.</p><p>“But no one’s Grace.”</p><p>“Fair enough.”</p><p>“Thanks, Hoob,” Grace is amused by the eccentric conversation. “You are a true friend, not like these two morons.”</p><p>The evening proceeds quietly, with the four of them continuing drinking, laughing and bantering, more drinking, being very loud, and even more drinking. Grace feels great in their company, there's not a single moment when she doesn't feel appreciated.</p><p>“Guys, I’m outta here,” Popeye informs them at some point, massaging his belly with a hand, “before I feel like shit.”</p><p>“Glad to see you’re more responsible than last night,” Shifty lifts a brow.</p><p>“Hey, it was three nights ago, okay?” Popeye protests, waving his arm and causing beer to overflow from the glass. Then he scrunches up his face, doubting his own words. “Right?”</p><p>Both Shifty and Hoobler shake their heads. “The cat and the waiter was three nights ago, but you were drunk last night too, doing flips to your barracks.”</p><p>“Oh, shit, time flies.”</p><p>“It’s like the title of a movie, The Cat and The Waiter,” Hoobler laughs at his own joke, and a loud hiccup resonates through the room.</p><p>“Well, I think I’m heading to the movie, maybe I’ll manage to see the ending,” Grace announces, finishing up her drink to the last drop. “Wanna join?”</p><p>“I’ll be finishing up my drink, then I’ll go catch some sleep,” Shifty tells her, smiling. Shifty always smiles. </p><p>“I’ll keep you company,” Hoobler decides. “See you tomorrow, Grace.”</p><p>“Alright, good night, boys,” she waves at them, standing up. “Watch out for cats, Pop.”</p><p>Grace exits the club in a blissful mood, thanking the alcohol in her body for protecting her a little from the freezing December air.</p><p>The door creaks loudly when Grace enters the cinema, it always does. The light from the screen where the movie is being projected barely illuminates the room, only showing her the silhouettes of the men. With another creak and a 'shhh' from someone nearby, Grace closes the door behind her and reaches the front rows, sitting in the first vacant seat. After a moment she feels her neck tingling and, when she turns to her right, Luz is staring at her.</p><p>Without thinking twice, Grace stretches out one leg and shifts her weight into the chair next to him. Suddenly she's flooded by an overwhelming smell, a mixture of mint and smoke and something sweet.</p><p>His smile is one of growing happiness, like the opening of a spring flower. Grace can see how it comes from deep inside to light his eyes and spread to every part of him.</p><p>Grace has had a close relationship with Luz since the day they met in Normandy. She remembers the feeling she felt after just a few hours spent together well, of how he somehow resembled Henri and how it seemed that they had known each other for a lifetime. Perhaps it's because of this first sensation that now the two of them are so connected, they're so necessary for the life of the other. Almost essential.</p><p>Luz has always been fond of her from the start, but ever since that freezing night in Holland when Grace confessed to losing her baby, it's as if something else has clicked in him. He's always the same, always the same funny Luz, but something is different in the way he looks at her.</p><p>As if he's worried she would crumple.</p><p>As if he's expecting something.</p><p>But there’s also something different in the way Grace looks at him, in the way she thinks of him and she can’t wrap her head around it yet.</p><p>He's the first to look away, and moves his gaze to Marlene Dietrich. “Look at me. I’m John Wayne,” Luz says distorting his voice and making Grace cackle, as John Wayne appears on screen. “The costume department set me up with these great Navy whites...”</p><p>Toye, who’s sitting right in front of them with Lipton, turns around, irate.</p><p>“Luz, shut up.”</p><p>“I’m trying to watch this,” Lipton adds, also annoyed.</p><p>Grace turns to Luz, suppressing another cackle. “I’ve seen this movie thirteen times, okay?” He tells them, shrugging. </p><p>“Well, I haven’t, so shut up.”</p><p>“Watch the movie, fine!”</p><p>“Thirteen?!” Grace mouths and he just shrugs. </p><p>“Hey, Skip!” Malarkey’s voice comes from behind them. She turns and sees that both Perconte and Muck are sitting just behind her and she didn’t even notice. Grace smiles softly at them, before returning to the movie.</p><p>“You smell nice,” Luz says before she can even try to understand what the movie is about. “What is that?”</p><p>“Um, soap?” she smirks a little. “The usual.”</p><p>“Seriously, guys?” Toye turns again, his eyes bulging out in irritation.</p><p>Grace gives him an apologetic look, and she zips her mouth with a gesture of her hand. She looks at Luz again and finds him smirking, then he fishes out his pack of Lucky Strikes and lights himself one - even though a half finished cigarette is still hanging from the corner of his mouth. He then passes the new cigarette to Grace, who inhales it deeply, blowing smoke out of her nostrils.</p><p>Grace feels Luz shifting on his chair and coming closer to her.</p><p>“You’re different today,” he whispers to her ear. When Grace frowns slightly at him, he adds: “in a good way.”</p><p>“Is today the World Compliment Day and I didn't know?” Grace smirks, raising a brow. “Maybe it’s the braid?” she murmurs then, gently placing her messy braid on her right shoulder.</p><p>“Maybe,” he chews on his lower lip, playing with the braid a little. “I don’t know, you seem... relaxed?”</p><p>Grace chuckles, bringing the cigarette to her mouth. Maybe he can see something she can't, even in the dim light. She definitely doesn't feel relaxed, but she has to admit that the night out at the NCO’s club, especially the story of Popeye throwing a cat into a waiter's face, helped ease her nerves a little bit. </p><p>“Sadly, Luz, I’m always the same.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t complain about it that much,” he shrugs, as he sets his eyes on the screen. “Lip, favourite part,” he pokes Lipton on the shoulder to get his attention, before warping his voice once again. “Got a penny?” Toye turns around for the millionth time. “Got a penny?” Luz remarks, with Grace feeling the giggle building up inside her like so much water behind a dam, making her belly hurt. He takes another drag of his cigarette. “Got... a... penny?” </p><p>The giggle finally erupts from her mouth; she sounds like a braying donkey as she fights to breathe and stifle the tears of laughter.</p><p>“Got a penny?” Marlene Dietrich says on the screen, and Luz lets out a giggle.</p><p>For the umpteenth time that evening, Grace finds herself having to wipe the tears with the sleeve of her jacket. Luz seems quite content with the result of his skit and even offers her his own sleeve. She laughs again, not caring about being loud this time.</p><p>Apparently even the two men who abruptly enter the room at that moment don't care about being loud. The lights go back on, the movie stops and the only noises are the boots of the two soldiers trampling quickly towards the screen and the curses of those who were watching the movie.</p><p>“The 1st and the 6th SS Panzer Divisions broke through in the Ardennes forest,” one of them announces loudly and Grace can feel her laughter dying faster than a candle flame being snuffed out. “They overran the 28th Infantry and the 4th. Officers, report to respective HQs. All passes are cancelled. Enlisted men, report to barracks and your platoon leaders.”</p><p>Here it is, the moment Grace had hoped would never come. But it came eventually, hitting them when they less expected it.</p><p>Just half an hour ago she had been laughing heartily with Shifty, Popeye and Hoobler, two minutes earlier she had been laughing with Luz, and now she only can feel the ghosts of that laughter. Almost like it never happened.</p><p>Instinctively she turns to Luz, who's grinding out the cigarette on the back of the chair in front of him. As if feeling the weight of her gaze pinching his skin, Luz turns to her, a flat gaze, a gaze devoid of any emotion.</p><p>“Oh, fuck my life,” Grace blurts out, feeling Luz’s hand grabbing her arm and making her stand up.</p><p>“Come on,” he just says.</p><p>As they walk towards the exit, Grace sees Richard sitting right behind Buck Compton, who had been returned to Easy Company just the day before. Richard notices her, but doesn't give her the usual warm, kind smile; his face is emotionless, almost like the expression Luz had shown just a moment ago. She tries to make her facial muscles form a small smile, but what comes out is just an awkward grimace.</p><p>The barrack that has been Grace's home for weeks is in utter chaos. Men are trying to gather their things together as quickly as possible, Grace hears them swear under their breath, no one has the heart or the strength to say anything out loud.</p><p>It's mid-December, everyone was already in a festive mood, ready for the football game that would be held on Christmas Day. </p><p>Grace laughs to herself, thinking she won't have the best Christmas in twenty two years as she had hoped, after all...</p><p>A lot of agitated voices are coming from outside. She hears Peacock's loud, clear voice as he passes in front of the barrack, yelling: "It's gonna be cold up there, so grab all the warm clothes you can find!"</p><p>Grace laughs at herself again, realising that the only warm clothing she has is a wool cap and a thin blanket.</p><p>Grace makes sure the sabotage kit and the suicide pills are well hidden at the bottom of the backpack. Up until now, she has never needed them, but she knows that life is unpredictable. She hopes she won't need to use either of them, especially the pills, although she misses sabotaging the Krauts.</p><p>As she pulls up the backpack to close it tightly, a small piece of paper slips from a pocket and lands on the wooden floor. Grace takes it gently and twists it in her hand, and sees herself smiling. Suddenly all the background noises are muffled as if someone had just stuffed cotton into her ears.</p><p>It's an old photograph of her and Henri that she didn't even remember taking with her. Grace mentally slaps herself, almost as if she had betrayed her husband.</p><p>The photo is of them soon after their wedding, the Eiffel Tower as the background to their love. Grace is smiling, she's happy, she's very young. Henri is beautiful as usual and he's smiling too, an arm wrapped gently around her waist.</p><p>Grace sighs, wondering why she no longer feels a sense of disorientation whenever she thinks of him, or hears his name, or when she sees his face.</p><p>She hasn't been thinking a lot about Henri lately. Her mind had been too busy trying to wipe away other deep thoughts. But Grace has to stop using this as an excuse, because the truth is that aside from those moments of unease, she's been also managing to finally have some fun. She has made some amazing memories with the men of Easy Company, and they helped her focus on things other than war and especially her painful past.</p><p>With another loud sigh, Grace secures the photo in the inside pocket of her jacket and, with a last, quick look around, she walks out. </p><p>There’s even more chaos outside than there was in the barrack. As she follows the column of soldiers headed to the trucks, she walks by Peacock and hears him asking everybody if they have seen Lieutenant Dike. She scoffs loudly, but no one seems to pay attention.</p><p>Someone loads Grace onto a truck, which is already set for departure, its engines roaring into the night. She hears someone asking if they managed to scrounge enough K-rations, but what concerns her the most is clothes. The winter that year is especially cold, and Grace knows it’s only going to get worse. </p><p>Grace tries to shake that thought from her mind, tightening her arms on her M1. She curses under her breath at the thought that they had to hand over all of their ammunition when they first arrived at Camp Mourmelon. All she managed to keep is just what now lies in her backpack.</p><p>More men crowd onto the truck, and Grace finds herself pushed between Talbert and Sisk. She doesn’t mind, at least she can take advantage of the situation and make herself a little warmer. </p><p>The journey to the Ardennes doesn’t take long, just a couple hours. The roads are potholed and mudded because of the rain, so they’re all shoved against each other for the whole ride. </p><p>The trucks stop somewhere outside Bastogne, and they all jump off quickly.</p><p>Wintry air swirls all around them, stealing every lick of warmth it can. Grace wraps her arms tighter around herself, pulling her uniform jaket closed and tucking her chin downward into the collar. The sky is dark and low, the air so freezing that it hurts to breathe. Already the ground is laid white with frost, Grace feels the icy ground beneath her boots for the first time that season.</p><p>“Holy hell,” Gordon says, hopping off the truck after her.</p><p>Grace isn't sure about holy<em> , </em> but it sure does look like hell <em> . </em></p><p>Grace has been holding her pee all the way from Mourmelon, so she doesn't hesitate for another second before hiding behind the truck and freeing herself from that burden. As soon as she catches up with the men again, she finds herself staring at the most terrifying sight.</p><p>American soldiers are slowly making their way up the road from where the 506th had just arrived. They’re marching so slowly that they seem to be going backwards; the small bonfires that some members of Easy have just started, illuminate their twisted, knackered, worn out faces. Some have their arms wrapped up in bloody bandages, some their heads. Some have both.</p><p>Grace hears Guarnere stop one of them and tell him they are going the wrong way. It seems to Grace that <em> they </em> are the ones who are going to be going the wrong way, instead.</p><p>“Hey, pal,” she hears Guarnere’s concerned tone again. “Hey, pal. What happened? Where are you going?”</p><p>“They came out of nowhere,” one of them says as Guarnere managed to make him stop by grabbing his arm, “they slaughtered us. You gotta get outta here.”</p><p>“We just got here,” Heffron retorts, as if it’s the most obvious thing.</p><p>“Gimme your ammo,” Guarnere instructs the man, who lets himself be ripped off his ammunition by Guarnere and Heffron.</p><p>That seems like a good idea, so slowly she follows the men and tries to get as much ammunition as she can. Grace grabs a soldier by his jacket, making him stop abruptly; the man doesn’t seem bothered, almost as if he didn’t even realise someone had stopped him.</p><p>“You got any ammo?” Grace asks, her voice slightly hoarse because she has barely spoken in hours. “Anything?”</p><p>Grace finds herself staring into the man’s blue eyes and all she can see is complete apathy. He sets his eyes dead ahead, as if he's mesmerized by her face and he just stays there for a few moments.</p><p>“You got ammo?” Grace asks again.</p><p>The man nods slowly, spreading his arms as if inviting her to search him. Grace takes what she can find by rummaging in his pockets, but it makes her feel sick. She feels as if she's stealing from him, but it’s not like she has a choice.</p><p>“You look like my sister.” Grace looks up so quickly she hears her neck creak a little. A big knot is forming in her throat and she feels like throwing up. “My little sister.”</p><p>Grace doesn’t know what to say or what to do, so she hurries until she completely strips the soldier of his ammunition. She wants this to end as soon as possible.</p><p>The man goes on with his slow walk, and Grace is sure she hears him whispering again, “my little sister, my little sister.”</p><p>“You okay, Grace?” A gentle but worried voice breaks her from her trance. “You grabbed some ammo?” Heffron asks her.</p><p>“Yes,” she says. “Yeah, I’m fine. I did.”</p><p>“Keep looking. And take these, it’s M1 ammo.”</p><p>Grace feels Heffron shoving something into her pockets, but her mind is still on the soldier who told her she looks like his sister. </p><p>She manages to scrounge more ammunition, refusing to even look the men directly in the eyes as she searches into their coats. Selfishly she would even take a coat, but she feels bad just at the thought of leaving someone almost naked in this freezing cold. That doesn't prevent her from pulling a scarf off a soldier's neck. </p><p>“Grace,” another voice calls for her. It’s Richard. “Grace.”</p><p>“Hey, Rich,” her breath comes out a white cloud, her teeth chattering. Grace hears distant rifle shots, but she tries to ignore the sound. “I wish I went to Paris with you, you know.”</p><p>Richard stays quiet, he just stares at her intensely. He caresses her shoulder gently, and Grace knows it's just a trick of emotion but for just one moment she feels warmer, safer.</p><p>“Come on, let’s go,” Richard says calmly, his hand still on her as he guides her forward. </p><p>The men have already started moving towards the town, so she just falls in with them, hearing the icy ground creaking under her boots.</p><p>Even though Grace is moving, the night air is taking her heat away faster than her body can replace it. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>» info «</p><p>- there's a historical inaccuracy in this chapter, which is the song at the beginning. "I Didn't Know The Gun Was Loaded" is a song by Patsy Montana, but it was first released in 1949, so it didn't exist in war time. But I so wanted to do that, because whenever I listen to that song I think of Grace haha!<br/>- I don't know how many of you know, but the story of Popeye throwing a cat to a waiter DID HAPPEN HAHA! It comes from Shifty's book, and it's truly hilarious!<br/>- fun fact: the scene of that soldier telling Grace she looks like his sister, it was one of the first thing that I've written when I started writing the fic back in July! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Bois Jacques</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That morning the woods are filled with an ominous silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly a loud shriek comes from the trees, breaking that almost mesmerizing stillness, but Grace is sure it's just a branch twisting under the sheer weight of ice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trees stand starkly, they look so forlorn in the frigid early morning, with the pale light of the day just ready to peep in among their silhouettes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like it’s been for the past couple of days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace tightens her thin blanket around her, leaning against the side of her foxhole but regretting it immediately; the frozen snow quickly soaks up what’s left of her body heat from her back, leaving her as cold as those trees. Her breath rises before her and she thinks of how she doesn't really notice breathing in the warmer seasons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The steely clouds make good on their promise and soon begin to sleet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like it’s been for the past couple of days.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Grace thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck the snow, fuck this eerie woods, fuck them Krauts.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Frosted air forces its way into her lungs and stings her eyes. She wraps the scarf she stole from that man on the road twice around her neck so that it comes up to her lips, hoping that her own exhaled air would be trapped in it, in a sort of microcosm of warmth. Yet even then the chill seeps in and her teeth begin to chatter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like it’s been for the past couple of days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace moves her tired gaze onto Hoobler, perfectly asleep at her side. His head is resting heavily on her shoulder, but she doesn’t mind, because the only way to not freeze to death is try to keep each other warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snuggles up to him, trying not to wake him, intertwining their legs together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s barely been a couple of days and Grace already hates this place. The worst thing is that they still don’t know for how long they will have to hold this position, it could be a week, it could be a month. It could be even more. The area around Bastogne is very important to the Germans, with its strategic crossroads; the 101st Airborne is scattered all around the perimeter, each battalion covering the several roads leading in and out of the area, and their job is to make sure that the Germans won’t be able to use them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Easier said than done, but that’s what they have to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If possible, Grace cuddles up to Hoobler even more because she can’t even feel her cheeks anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” a feeble voice startles her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks up and finds Roe crouched down to their foxhole, trying to get his hands warm by hiding them under his armpits, his helmet is all the way down his forehead and the rest of his face buried behind the collar of his jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, doc,” she tries, a foreign high pitched voice coming from her mouth. “You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barely,” he huffs out. “You guys doing okay? Do you check your feet regularly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, no,” Grace manages. “I mean, I still can feel my toes. For now. Don’t know about Hoob, he’s been asleep for hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lucky him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, wake him up,” Roe instructs her in a firm tone. “Make him move. It’s several degrees below zero, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>to try and keep warm. Move around, you don’t want to find yourself with trench foot. And drink a lot of water, in cold weather it’s easier to get dehydrated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, gotcha,” Grace blurts out, thinking back at an hour ago, when she tried sipping from her canteen but the water, surprise surprise, wasn’t water anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you, um...” Roe starts, now blowing hot air on his hands and rubbing them together. “Did you keep some morphine from Holland? Or bandages? Anything, really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace thinks that it’s unbelievable that they sent them up front with no equipment; medics are short of medical supplies, soldiers are short of ammunition, food and proper winter clothing. She rummages through her satchel, finding both her spare morphine and a couple of bandages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” she says, tossing them to Roe, who secures them gently in his own satchel. He’s about to stand up, when Grace stops him. “Wait,” she calls him, reaching for Hoobler’s bag and frisking through it as well. “Some other bandages. He won’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, thank you, Grace,” Roe thanks her. “Please, stay safe. Stay warm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll try, doc.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roe walks away, he takes just a few steps before he’s enveloped in the thick fog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace nudges Hoobler a little, trying to wake him up. The boy sleeps like a baby, and she envies him very much. After living this life for several years, Grace has now developed excellent hearing, even while sleeping. It just takes the slightest noise and she jolts in her sleep, which is both useful, because having good hearing during missions is pivotal, but also bad because she doesn't remember the last time she slept a full night without ever waking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hoob, wake up, come on,” she elbows him. He shifts a little against her, snoring. “Wake up, I need some sleep. And you need some walking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All I need is a warm bed, hot chow and a hot dame, too,” Hoobler blurts out with his eyes still closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean⎯” his apology turns into a yawn, but Grace is smiling wide under her collar. “I mean, you’re very pretty. Hot, even. I didn’t mean it like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace lets out a raspy laugh. “Jesus, I was just mocking you!” she pokes gently at his helmet. “Fuck, is it normal that my facial muscles creak this hard when I laugh? I swear this cold will be the death of us and we just got here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hoobler stretches, making strange noises with his mouth. “I’m telling you, I just had the weirdest dream. An actual bear came to our hole, bringing us food and morphine, and warming us up with his fur.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace lets out a giggle. “Let me guess, the bear’s name is Eugene Roe,” she shakes her head, still laughing. When her foxhole partner gives her a quizzical look, she explains. “Gene just came here scrounging for medical supplies. I gave him yours, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, don’t tell him my sleepy self had mistaken him for a bear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t spill your secret, don’t worry,” Grace promises, already knowing that she’s going to share the story to anyone who’s willing to listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hoobler drags himself up onto his feet, his face is screaming his desire to remain in the foxhole. He yawns again, fixing the helmet right on his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really meant that earlier, ya know,” he says then, hopping clumsily out the foxhole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That you’re pretty,” he just shrugs with a smirk. “Even with those dark circles under your eyes, and your skin paler than moonlight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m unsure if I should slap you, or thank you,” Grace mocks him, trying to remember the last time someone told her she’s pretty. She doesn’t remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While you decide, get some sleep,” Hoobler tells her, moving away. “I’ll just stretch my legs around for a bit and then I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn’t answer, she just nods as she watches him getting shrouded by the fog like Roe had been a few minutes before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace suddenly feels blackness coming over her like a blanket, a blanket of coldness making her shiver, making her eyes feel heavier and heavier. Her mind finally drags her into a dreamless sleep before Hoobler can even reach the closest trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Grace opens her eyes, she's enveloped in full daylight. She can't tell if it's still morning or if afternoon came, because the sky is wrapped in a blanket of gray clouds and every hour that passes always looks the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hoobler is sitting next to her, trying in vain to turn the ice in his canteen into water again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long was I asleep?” Grace asks with a rough voice, finding her lungs in deep pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “Dunno, half an hour?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Half an hour?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she cries out in disbelief. “Shit, can’t I just sleep like everyone else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The more she speaks, the more she feels her chest burning up in flames. Her head bursts, it's as if someone had placed a grenade into her brain. She leans her head against the side of the foxhole, squeezing her eyes shut, willing the pain to go away. And as if that wasn't enough, she can't breathe through her nose because a big ball of phlegm is blocking her airways.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, apparently half an hour is long enough to catch a goddamn cold,” she groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You feel sick?” Hoobler asks with a note of worry in his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. Come on, let’s grab some breakfast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace and Hoobler slide out of their foxhole to go to the jeep which is being used as a temporary mess, if one can call it that, not far from them. On their way to breakfast, she can't help but notice the other foxholes around them; some are as bare as theirs, just simple holes in the ground, others have been covered with logs, using boughs as a roof to prevent the snow from falling onto the men’s heads. Smart move, Grace thinks she should do that too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they arrive at the jeep, a few other men are there, some eating in silence, some wandering around with their rifles well tightened in their arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace fishes out her mess kit, which the cook fills with a mere scoop of cold soup. She eyes the cup and then the cook, who shrugs in response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, don’t give us any more or we’ll get fat,” she mutters under her breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They eat their meal silently, then decide to go back to their foxhole - Grace needs to catch some more sleep, the far too short nap from before has only made her tiredness worse. They walk back just a couple of minutes, when they’re stopped by a cheerful voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, fellas! Over here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace follows the sound of the voice and finds Gordon, waving from a tree just a few meters from them. They both make a detour and join their friend, intent on making coffee inside a helmet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Smokey,” Hoobler greets him happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fancy some coffee?” Gordon offers, stirring the liquid inside the helmet with a spoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yes,” Grace accepts gladly, handing him her mess kit. “Could use some warmth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here ya go, Smarty,” he says, pouring her some coffee. Grace is just about to bring the cup to her mouth, when he continues. “You guys heard what happened earlier?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment she feels her heart leap in her chest, then she realises that his tone wasn’t too serious, so probably nothing grave happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Hoobler asks, worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gordon shakes his head while pouring himself some coffee. “Captain Winters caught a Kraut wandering in our CP, trying to have a shit. They sent him up to Division, made him POW. Can you believe that? Not only do we have to defend ourselves from their artillery, but also from their shit, now. This is getting crazier by the day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Hoobler huffs. “What a mess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can say that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I talked to Shifty last night,” Grace tells them sipping on her coffee, feeling a strong and beautiful sensation of warmth rising in her chest, “he said they keep sending him and Popeye on patrols, and that they make contact almost every time. They’d see some Krauts, Krauts’d see them, some fire here and there, and then each on their own as if nothing happened. I mean, I thought we’d be covering the whole perimeter, but looks like we share the perimeter with them instead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My ass,” Gordon scoffs. “We’re short of men, other than supplies. We just can’t cover the whole area. Winters told General McAuliffe this morning, but… ya know how it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace lifts a brow at Gordon. “Have you seen Richard?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I was talking to Alley, he said that both Winters and Strayer basically begged for help, but the general went like ‘hold the line, close the gaps, forget about air cover’, and things like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it’s not him who gets to worry about his head being shelled,” Hoobler protests, standing up and stretching his legs. “Couldn't the Germans have waited until spring to attack? They’d have saved us at least half of the trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t they just have fucked off instead?” Grace remarks. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>would’ve saved us a lot of trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Touchè.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Grace, I swear I heard someone humming your song earlier,” Gordon informs Grace, with a little, proud smirk growing on his lips. It takes her a moment to realise he’s talking about the newest and edited version of </span>
  <em>
    <span>I Didn’t Know The Gun Was Loaded. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Didn’t think it’d stuck this much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace laughs a little. “Looks like the author is ace at this kind of stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like he’s only praised the heroic deeds of the protagonist,” Gordon retorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heroic deeds,” she repeats, impressed, thinking back to Cobb’s sweaty face when she shot at him. It must be said that after that, whenever she met them around the base, the replacements  started giving her little bows with their head as a greeting. During training or when they were at the mess hall, she used to catch them staring and then looking away; maybe it's because she's a woman, maybe it's because they were reluctant about a woman in the army, but Grace likes to think that after the Cobb event, they saw her as some kind of protector. A big sister.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace hands the cup to him again, as to have some more coffee, when she spots Muck and Malarkey, both digging their foxhole not far away. She smiles to herself, swallowing the hot coffee in one gulp before standing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna say hi to my brothers over there,” she tells them. “It seems they might need some cheerleading.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace waves goodbye, then approaches Muck and Malarkey; she hasn't seen them in almost two days and until then she hadn't realised how much their absence had weighed on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddamn shovel won’t dig deeper,” she hears Muck complaining as she gets closer, cursing at the tool in his hands. They don’t acknowledge her presence right away, but when Muck spots her, his mouth twists in the brightest smile. “Grace!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, boys,” she greets them, wiping her runny nose with her jacket sleeve as she crouches down. “Have you set up your new home yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the swimming pool is over there,” Malarkey laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The soil is so damn thick that we can’t go deeper than this,” Muck grunts, sitting on the edge of the hole right next to Grace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don't think artillery cares how deep your foxhole is,” she smirks, but she's suddenly assailed by heavy coughs, which make her feel the taste of blood in her mouth. Grace tries to ignore the tears forming at the corner of her eyes and the burning in her chest, until the coughs ease in intensity and then slowly pass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Malarkey asks her, as Muck gives her small pats on the back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just woke up with this shitty cold this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful it doesn’t get worse, some of the men have already been taken back to Bastogne,” Muck explains, sighing. When he notices Grace looking at him with a frown, he adds: “Pneumonia.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” she huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “As if we weren't short of men already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Malarkey rifles in his pocket and comes out with a chocolate bar, “have a Harshey. The cure to everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace takes it and rolls it in his hand a couple of times, before glancing back at her friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but I want to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re gonna share it,” Grace decides, breaking off the chocolate bar in three parts. “Here you have it, guys. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Miss Positivity,” Muck scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More like Miss Realist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all happens in a few seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tree explodes a few steps away from them, its log bursts in two. Grace doesn't think twice before jumping into the unfinished hole with Muck, her helmet flying off due to the impact. When her skin comes into contact with the freezing air it makes her ears sore, her head pumping fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skip, Grace, you okay?” she hears Malarkey's worried tone rising above the general noise of the wood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re good!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Muck! Malarkey! Penkala!” comes another voice, as Roe approaches their foxhole quickly. He soon realises it’s not Penkala but Grace, and gestures towards her as if asking if she’s okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re okay!” Malarkey shouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you look at this shit?” Muck angrily yells at no one in particular. When Grace glances down at him, she notices the helmet in his hands has several holes on it, and she feels her heart skip a beat. “They peppered my helmet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank god it’s not your head!” she blurts out, mentally crying at his friend's luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, doc!” Muck calls for Roe, fiddling with his front pocket while other explosions are resonating all around them. “Morphine! Here, take it,” he throws it at the medic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Penkala?” Roe asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christ knows!” Malarkey says as a cry for a medic comes from the distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fearful blow of yet another explosion reverberates over the woods as efficiently as a thunder clap. The noise of broken trunks, the hoarse howl of men, soldiers rushing to reach shelter, the awful gulfing whirlpool of horror that ripped them of their quiet morning intensifies each second that passes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It goes on like that for another solid minute, or five minutes, or ten, Grace can’t tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All she knows is that she's curled up around Muck, the terror she felt at seeing his helmet full of holes has yet to fade. She no longer feels the burning flames in her chest, the headache, the cough, the metallic taste of blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's as if that sudden horror had swept them away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And all of a sudden the noise stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace dares to look around: the ground is no longer covered in a white blanket from this morning's snowfall, instead it’s full of dark patches of earth, she can see at least three fallen trees and wonders if there are any more. She also wonders if everyone is okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat, drink, and be merry, you said?” Muck mocks her, hitting her head with his helmet. “Because tomorrow we may die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I say, I’m a sorcerer,” she shrugs, then immediately realises something terrible. “Oh, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malark,” she whines, her eyes surveying the surface all around them, “the Harshey. It's gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malarkey breathes a sigh of relief, giving her a little kick on her boots and letting himself sink back into the side of the foxhole. Grace mirrors him and feels Muck do the same. She doesn't know how long they stay in that position, but it doesn't matter because at least they're safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Babe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace briskly waves an arm towards Heffron, trying to get his attention. She closes the distance that separates them with a little run, the rifle bouncing on her back, realising only at that moment that he's not alone. Julian stands there with him, he’s one of the replacements who smiles at Grace every time they cross paths, because he was present that day when she scared Cobb off, rolling his eyes every time Cobb opened his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Julian,” she adds, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re just going to grab something to eat,” Heffron informs her as they start walking again. “You okay? You seem pale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m okay,” Grace nods, suppressing a cough. “This freezing cold got my lungs, but other than that I’m fine. Just a little dazed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who isn’t,” Julian comments, and he’s absolutely right. “Babe just got back from patrol.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah? Anything new?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same as yesterday,” Heffron manages and Grace can’t help but notice he looks very tired. “And the day before. And the day before that. It wasn’t really a patrol, though, Spina and I went for supplies. I swear to god you walk two minutes from your foxhole and you find yourself in the enemy’s holes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’d be the last straw,” Grace scoffs, shaking her head at the army’s organisation. She hears both Julian and Heffron chuckle. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julian glances at his friend and then looks at her. “He kinda did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get some food, then I’ll tell you, Smarty,” he pats her gently on the shoulder as they walk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ten minutes later Grace finds herself surrounded by the best of company. As they wait for Joe Dominguez to bring them a round of food, she wraps herself tighter in her jacket, the scarf wrapped warmly around her neck. She's not inclined to be carried away over to Bastogne on a stretcher, so better try and keep herself as warm as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Spina and I went looking for 3rd battalion for supplies, right?” Heffron starts, and Julian is already laughing because he’s already familiar with the story. “We were walking for like five minutes, when I stepped into a hole. At first I thought it was one of ours, right? Then I heard ‘Hinkle’ and some other shit in German and it scared the shit outta me. We managed to run away as quickly as possible, his bullets missing us by a whisker!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some odd reason, they all seem to find that story very funny. It might be because of the way Heffron narrated it, or because there's actually a funny note to it. Grace isn’t sure, but she finds herself laughing with the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s a Hinkle?” Muck asks, almost choking on his saliva.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heffron shrugs. “It must be his foxhole buddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should’ve shot Hinkle in the ass,” Malarkey laughs, attacking his K-ration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hinkle nearly shot </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the ass,” Muck comments as they start laughing like crazy. Grace is surprised by coughing every time she tries to open her mouth, but she can't help but laugh anyway. What escapes from her mouth is a mixture of coughing and laughter, but nobody seems to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally Dominguez comes, bringing some food, and she hands him her cup as soon as he gets closer, receiving only a ladleful of soup. A strange smell comes from it, but Grace is hungry. She was just hoping it would be something warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These smell like my armpit,” Malarkey complains about what Grace just thought but didn’t dare say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muck scoffs, picking up a piece of meat and observing it as if he's expecting it to explode. “At least your armpit’s warm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want syrup with that?” Dominguez asks, rather annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be honest, what’s in these things, anyway, uh?” Malarkey seems very pissed that he doesn’t get to eat proper food. Grace agrees with him, because between K-rations and cold food, it won’t take long for the course of nature to tear them from life before the Germans will. But food is food, and they’re starving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing you won’t eat, Malarkey,” Dominguez shots back and walks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t eat Malarkey,” is Muck’s comment and Grace almost chokes on her meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, maybe Hinkle would like your share,” Julian points out, making everybody laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace has no doubts that they will be talking about this Hinkle for the next week at the very least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should’ve shot him when I had the chance,” Heffron mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a last spoonful of soup, Grace empties her cup, feeling even more hungry than before. She pulls out a K-ration from her pocket and devours it, hoping that it would do until the next day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she looks up, she spots Peacock coming towards them, looking a little distraught.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anybody seen Lieutenant Dike?” he questions, his eyes clearly begging for a positive answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace hadn’t seen Dike since they got to Bastogne. She's struggling to remember the last time she saw him, but it was probably when they were entering the forest. Grace's worries about him were coming true, going to battle with a nonexistent leader is daunting as well as dangerous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try Battalion CP, sir,” Malarkey suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Peacock doesn’t respond, he just turns on his heels and walks away. Poor Peacock, he and the other lieutenants are the ones that are working on keeping the men on track. To keep them focused, to keep them safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try Paris,” Muck snickers, nudging Grace a little and causing another round of laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try Hinkle.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Hinkle, sweety, I’m home,” Penkala says in a theatrical tone. Grace starts laughing until she starts choking on</span> <span>her own saliva and starts to cough, thinking it’s ironic if she were to cough herself to death in some Belgium forest. “Grace, don’t die, please,” he then adds, rubbing her back.</span></p><p>
  <span>With tears in her eyes, Grace sighs, glancing up at Roe, sitting with his back against a tree a few meters away from them. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, he’s probably spent the past few days hearing people coughing badly like her. Truth is, there’s nothing he can do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eugene,” Heffron calls to him, turning his head, “Lieutenant Dike’s got a full aid kit. Try him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure he’s not using his,” Malarkey snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, they don’t need no aid kits in Wonderland,” Grace manages to say, causing the men to cackle hard. Good to know that she manages to make them laugh even on the verge of asphyxiation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna call him Alice for the rest of the war, I swear to god,” Penkala comments, wiping tears from his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eat your strudel,” Muck scolds him in a friendly fashion, and both start giggling again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hinkle Vinkle, eat ze armpit, huh?” Malarkey jokes. “I don’t know what I just said, but in that moment it felt right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said ‘hello, I’m stupid’ in German code,” Muck rolls his eyes and Grace lets out a deep, rumbling laughter. She's doubled over with laughter as points feebly at Muck with a shaky finger. “Oi, Grace, you alright? Try not dying, we need you to win this war.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so-rry, Skip, I just⎯” she gasps, taking a deep breath. “I honestly never met anyone funnier than you guys, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, but don’t let Luz hear that or he’ll strangle us in our sleep,” Malarkey grins, winking at her. When a big, confused frown appears on Grace's face, she notices Malarkey getting a little bit uneasy, as if he’s realised he said something he shouldn’t have. He coughs a little, and then adds: “Because we don’t want him to feel left out, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure,” Grace says with her brow still raised. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Or</span>
  </em>
  <span> because you all are hiding something from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whaaat?” Muck steps in, spitting out some soup. “Why would we hide something from you? Secrets have no point when you could die any minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>am Miss Positivity,” she rolls her eyes, smiling. “However, it seems to be the case, sometimes. It seems as if you all know something that I don't know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would have liked to add an 'about Luz' but she preferred to remain vague.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace,” Malarkey starts, giving her a kind look, “you’re the smartest person we know. It’s physically impossible for us to hide something from you, because you’d catch us straight away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace has quite a few doubts about being given the title of smartest person, but it's best to let it go. They're certainly right, she's just misinterpreting things, she's too focused on not choking to death to think straight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives her friends a big smile and then hugs her own legs, to try and warm herself up a bit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When Grace reaches the CP, she finds Richard sitting on his footlocker, reading a map.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Cap,” she salutes him, entering the… whatever it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace, it’s nice to see you,” he greets her with a big smile, putting away the map. “Are you alright? I’ve been told you’re sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace purses her lips, nodding. “Yeah, just a bad cough, I guess. The worst is over, I’m fine, now. Smokey sneaking up to my foxhole and bringing me hot coffee every now and then has helped to keep me warm. K-rations definitely didn’t, nor that slop they serve for lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard nods with a soft smile, but she can’t help but notice that he’s shivering hard. Considering it’s more than twenty degrees below zero, they’re lucky to be able to find the strength to stay active at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long will it take them to resupply us?” Grace then asks. “We’ve been here for days with basically nothing. We can’t go on like that. How are they expecting us to fight the Germans when we can barely manage to stay alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t know, Grace. They’re trying, but with this thick fog it’s not that easy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I bet the Germans are happy with our food,” she protests, crossing her arms in annoyance even though she’s aware it’s not Richard’s fault. It’s nobody’s fault. But he’s there in that moment, and she needs to vent. “Heard our planes keep missing the DZ.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I said,” Richard answers patiently, “it’s not that easy with this fog.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace looks away, her eyes wandering around, looking for something to distract her. When she realises that the most interesting thing is an almost empty bottle of Vat 69 placed on a wooden box, she glances up at Richard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve just seen Nixon leaving,” Grace informs him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he was here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, any news?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The usual, Grace,” he explains. “You’d know if there were any. The Germans are doing their job, we’re doing ours. For now there doesn't seem to be a solution for ending the impasse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why did you send for me?” Grace questions, sitting on a makeshift stool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard picks up the bottle of liquor and offers it to her, and she accepts gladly. “I just wanted to know how the men are holding up. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>are holding up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace finishes what's left of the liquor in one gulp, feeling it burn her throat, a pleasant burn, a familiar burn. She squints, enjoying the taste of the drink that would soon vanish, leaving her again in the freezing cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, divinely,” she sighs, sitting the bottle on the table again and playing with the label. “We have fun, play some football, have a lot of banquets, dance the jitterbug.” When Richard’s eyebrows snap together, she shrugs. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. We’re alive, for now, and that’s all that matters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We're certainly in a precarious situation. We hope they will soon be able to resupply us with food and clothes. You’re right, I don't know how long we'll be able to resist in this situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. But we’re managing,” Grace tries to encourage him as well as herself. “We always do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard smiles softly, gently patting her leg. “How is it with Dike?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” Grace scoffs, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen him since we got here. All I’m saying, we’re lucky to have such capable noncoms, they’ve been a tremendous help to keep the morale up. And us alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I wish there was something I could do about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. We know. It’s nobody’s fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now Grace is trying to convince herself more than Richard. Who knows, maybe saying those words aloud will work somehow. She sighs, thinking of the day they will have to take over Foy, the little town that’s their objective just down the hill, and when they will have to rely on their leader who’s just an empty uniform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peacock sent me on patrol yesterday,” Grace breaks the silence, forcing a smile. “We've seen them. I heard them a mile away. We approached them, Hoobler, Perconte and me, and they were eating their kraut food. Or maybe it was ours, I don't know. I swear I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>this close</span>
  </em>
  <span> to aiming my M1 and shooting. But I didn't do anything. Once I'd have jumped out of the woods and wouldn't hesitate, but yesterday... yesterday I was so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Rich, my hands were trembling, I realised I wouldn't even be able to scratch them. This war was supposed to be over by Christmas, but Christmas is a few days away and I've never felt so unsafe as I do now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some gazes are the promise of protection, Richard's gaze is all that and more. He wraps an arm around Grace’s shoulders and pulls her close, gently rubbing her arm and placing a delicate kiss on her hair. Sometimes Grace hates the fact that he keeps treating her like the seventeen year old girl from Lancaster, but today he makes her feel as if they're back in time and she could use some of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it flutters at the feeling of his body pressed against hers. She sinks into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch makes the air around them warmer somehow, her future seeming a little less bleak than the minute before.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. What About Henri?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You guys are gonna love this one :)<br/>Thank you <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelica_writes/pseuds/Angelica_writes">Angie</a> for your help as usual! Ily &lt;3<br/><br/><b>This is the LAST update this year!</b> I'm going to take a break from posting during the holidays and I thought this chapter would be a nice closure. I think now more than ever we all need to spend more time with our family and friends as much as we can! And as much as covid-19 allows it, sadly.<br/>Grace and I will be waiting for you folks in January! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Grace attacks a Harshey bar as if her life depends on it. The chocolate is as solid as the frozen soil under her feet, but the silky-smooth texture that comes forth brings nothing but pure bliss. The sugar sends heat through her body and makes her brain more alert.</p><p>She still can't believe she found one in the maze that's her rucksack, hidden in her spare socks. She doesn't remember how it had gotten there, but she certainly doesn't complain. Grace didn't think twice before splitting it in two, one piece for her and one for Luz.</p><p>“I feel so blessed,” Grace comments, licking the last trace of chocolate from her fingertips.</p><p>Luz smirks, shifting a little to fix himself better in the foxhole. He had finished his own piece before her, it took him less than five seconds to devour it.</p><p>“Same,” he says, crossing his arms to make himself warmer. “I don’t know why it took you so long to get rid of Hoobler.”</p><p>“Hey!” Grace laughs, shaking her head. “I didn’t get rid of him, he’s my friend. He wanted to be with a hot chick, so I thought Smokey would fit just fine.”</p><p>Loud laughter echoes in the trees, Luz slapping a hand on his mouth to shut himself up.</p><p>“Yeah, Smokey is indeed the hottest chick in the company,” he agrees, his facial features struggling to maintain his composure. “Where did Skip go, anyway?”</p><p>“Fetching us some coffee, bless him.”</p><p>“Ah, thank god we have Mama Muck, keeping us fed and on track!”</p><p>Grace chuckles, thinking it's more than true. That morning Peacock told Grace and Hoobler that Sisk and Perconte would take their place on the front line, while they would move slightly behind the line. She loves Hoobler, he's one of her favorite people, but honestly after a week she missed spending time with Muck too much. So Grace didn't think twice before inviting herself to his and Luz's foxhole, which neither of them opposed.</p><p>They have been sitting across from each other in that hole for hours now, talking about this and that, and to Grace the bitter cold doesn't seem so bitter anymore.</p><p>She glances up at Luz and notices that he’s looking at her in a strange way.</p><p>Something flashes beneath the surface of Luz’s hardened expression and she hurries to investigate the sudden shift. But it's too late, the emotion disappeared before she could even identify it. Grace is not used to that, not with Luz, it unnerves her.</p><p>For a split second they both stand there, staring at each other. She's assessing him as though he was competition, and he simply watches her as if he finds her the most beautiful woman in the world. His eyes are round and framed by thick long lashes and pierce through her skin like fire.</p><p>That unnerves her too, but not in a bad way.</p><p>“Do you regret it, Grace?” Luz asks her eventually, his voice low and raspy.</p><p>Grace frowns. “What?”</p><p>“Not telling him about your child,” he mutters slowly, as if with each word he repents more and more.</p><p>Grace understands immediately what he's talking about. She has no idea what happened to make him think about that tragic event, especially as they were talking about Muck and his coffee. And worst of all, she doesn't even know how to answer that tricky question.</p><p>“No,” she lets out a sad whisper, “not really. Perhaps I should’ve told him… it was his child, after all. I know it’s wrong, and that it might sound selfish, but I feel like I’ve spared Henri extra suffering, you know. After all we’ve been through together, at the time I felt like it was unnecessary to share that burden.”<br/>“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to make you sad,” Luz apologises, reaching her with his leg; she lets him intertwine their legs together, both trying to warm up each other, and as a gesture of affection. “It’s just⎯ sometimes I see you smile, I see you laugh, and I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you manage to live this life after all you’ve lost. And earlier you were smiling like that and all I could think about was your child. I just wished it would be here to see what I get to see. It’s not fair.”</p><p>His soft lips stretch into a sad smile but don't quite reach his brown eyes. They're lit with sadness, and the forced expression he manages to keep as he waits for an answer, would have looked comical to her if it didn't make her heart feel heavy.</p><p>For a few moments Grace stares at him, sure by now that her expression is mirroring his. It breaks her heart. She's seen many versions of George Luz through the past few months, but she's never encountered that expression. Maybe he had looked like that that night in Holland, when Grace told them the story, or maybe it was worse. But she was lucky, because she didn't get to see it at the time.</p><p>Right now, under the pale light of a mid-December afternoon, Grace doesn't like what she sees, she doesn't like that something in her caused her happy-go-lucky friend to morph his gentle look into a sad one.</p><p>Grace wants his smile to always stay on his face.</p><p>“It’s not fair, indeed,” Grace then says, looking at her own hands. “But it happened. There's no point in feeling sorry. It's in the past. If I’d become a mother back then, maybe I wouldn't be here freezing my ass to death waiting for the Germans to throw shit on my head. But it's also true that if I’d become a mother, I wouldn't have gotten to know you guys. I wouldn't be in this foxhole with you, to begin with. And that'd be unbearable too, if you ask me.”</p><p>She forces a smile, trying to cheer him up. To cheer both of them up. Luz just scoffs, glancing up at her.</p><p>“Oh, it definitely would.”</p><p>“I know, I’m just so awesome.”</p><p>Luz breathes out a small laugh, squeezing her thighs with his in a playful way. Grace takes it as 'you're right, Grace, you're awesome'.</p><p>“What was he like?” he asks, a little more confident than before. “Henri. Your husband. Tell me about him.”</p><p>“What about him?”</p><p>“Dunno, I’m asking you.”</p><p>“Why do you ask about him?”</p><p>“I don’t know, it’s just⎯ you used to talk about him, at the beginning. But you stopped, and besides you’ve never told us how you two met or how your wedding was.”</p><p>Grace didn’t expect that. She didn't expect anyone to make her realise that, in the last few months, every time she thought about Henri or named him, he was tied to bad events. Grace often thought about his death, about their last moments together, and thought about the strain with which they had tried to keep themselves alive since the day they met.</p><p>Grace had thought about all that and not the warmth she used to feel being with Henri, not their wedding, not the feeling of having the love of her life by her side, not any of it.</p><p>Grace had subconsciously always tied Henri’s name to grief since he died.</p><p><em>Grief</em>. She had always felt grief like emptiness in her heart, a ball of nothingness that somehow had taken her over, held her soul and threatened to kill her entirely. It gave her a heavy feeling that’s like the weight of the world is resting on her shoulders and there's nothing she could do to get out from under it.</p><p>Grief had been like a hole in her heart that's the shape of Henri.</p><p>Several months after his passing, the mourning hadn't run its course yet. Grace had kept feeling like someone had ripped her dead heart from her chest. Things she used to find funny once only caused a deepening of the pain. She had kept wishing he was there to laugh with her, or at her, or just near her. Henri should have been there, reading the newspaper backwards; he should have been there, fighting Grace on how to drink coffee - he used to take two spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee, which Grace always found offensive. But they would laugh about it, together. Henri should have been there, getting annoyed at how he never learned how to fix his bowtie.</p><p>She missed all those stupid things.</p><p>She still misses all that, but now it's different.</p><p>It's different because it's like the grief has changed somehow, it's like she... it feels like she finally managed to get over it. Grace still feels shivers when she thinks about their last kiss, not even knowing it would be their last moment together, but it's not that burning hell like before.</p><p>It's almost like she's finally ready to move on without feeling guilty.</p><p>“You alright, Grace?” Luz startles her from her trance. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”</p><p>“You didn’t,” a sad, nostalgic smile appears on her face. “I just got lost in my thoughts for longer than I thought.”</p><p>Grace rifles in the inside pocket of her jacket, and pulls out a photograph. She stretches her arm towards Luz and places it on the blanket next to him. Luz picks it up and stares at it, his gaze unreadable.</p><p>“Is it him?” he asks.</p><p>Grace nods, smiling softly. “Yeah, Paris ‘41, just after our wedding.”</p><p>“You were right,” he says, nodding, “he does look handsome.”</p><p>“He was,” she grins.</p><p>“So were you. You look nice, here. Peaceful.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t define it as peaceful, but yeah, I was happy.” Luz nods, staring at the picture for a few more moments and then handing it back to Grace before she continues. “It was great while it lasted, you know. It feels great to be loved, the warmth of your lover's cheek next to yours, his soft hand brushing your hair from your face... it feels great to be loved, but when that person leaves you, when someone takes them away from you, it's like your peace and serenity are shattered. At the time I felt isolated and alone and angry, on my own in a world where I didn't have anyone who cared for me. I felt broken for the umptienth time, and you know what's the worst part? That I'm so used to being broken, that sometimes it felt like normal. And then I felt guilty about it.”</p><p>Grace takes a deep breath. She doesn’t know if it’s because she just realised that she had been able to put the pain aside, or if it’s because she’s talking to Luz, but she finds it easier now to blurt out all of her thoughts.</p><p>She decides that perhaps it’s best to continue to let off steam right away, before she changes her mind.</p><p>“I've never experienced grief that bad before him, you know. I mean, one can say my whole life was built on grief - so I should've been used to it, right? Every memory of my husband used to play like a song in my head, repeating itself for what seemed like forever. Like a broken record. I used to feel lost mostly because I had lost a big part of me. I couldn't get that part back, but my life depended on it and it was all gone. Vanished into thin air. I can't say it got better, but it did get easier at some point. At first, I thought grief was something bad that takes you ten feet underground, but soon I learned that it was just the price we have to pay for loving someone.”</p><p>“You make sound love so beautiful and so painful at the same time,” Luz comments, tightening in his blanket. “You're different from all the people I've met all my life. Not just in terms of women, but people in general. You have this aura around you, Grace, you draw people towards you like a magnet. And even after all you've been through, after all the suffering your life brought you, you still manage to make them feel safe and loved. With you. The way you fought this war, and I'm not meaning only the actual war, it's admirable, but also sad, and I wish I could do something to get you back that smile you had in that picture.”</p><p>While hearing those words, Grace feels as if every ounce of breath was taken from her lungs, floating into the air like smoke. It's an odd feeling of relief, it’s like entering a house and finally realising you're home. Whenever Luz smiles at her, she feels invisible hands wrapping around her, making her feel safe. For so long she had longed for that feeling, for someone who makes her feel alive just by looking at her.</p><p>And Grace feels exactly that around George Luz, and she has for quite some time.</p><p>She can't bear to lose it, now - lose this thing that makes her feel so complete.</p><p>Grace really wants to tell him that he does, he does make her happy just with the simplest things like keeping her company, or eating together at the mess, or playing cards. She wants to tell him that, but for whatever reason she can’t bring herself to do it.</p><p>Luz has always been there for Grace, from the very start, mentally and also physically. He's like a stable force, stability in a world filled with chaos and she so desperately needs that in her life. Grace loves him so much for that. And that feeling is so strange, it spreads throughout her whole body. It’s overwhelming, yet it makes her feel complete. It has no boundary, nor length, nor depth. It feels as though she's in a dangerous fire, yet she's completely safe at the same time. And it makes her feel that hole in her heart shaped like Henri has been filled, somehow, when she wasn't looking.</p><p>Whenever she thinks about her relationship with Muck and Malarkey, it’s kind of strange, frightening even, how it goes from someone being a complete stranger, to them being completely essential and wondering how she managed to live without them all her life. They're Grace's best friends and, as cheesy as it sounds, they're her anchor.</p><p>But Luz is different, she's never realised but it's always been different.</p><p>Hoping that he hasn't been able to catch even an inch of her internal battle, Grace gulps and replies, finding her voice too hoarse for her liking.</p><p>“I really appreciate your words, I'm glad you think of me like that. But I'm far from admirable, Luz. Okay, I've done many good things, but equally many bad things. The bitter note about it, is that some of them I don't even regret. At first I used to fight mainly for me, you know. And I mean it in a selfish way. Then as the war progressed, I started to realise that my reasons were wrong, were selfish, that there was something bigger than my pride and my willingness to be appreciated by my father. Obviously, there was. I think growing up in a family like mine didn't help that.”</p><p>It's as if saying those things had lifted a huge weight that was pressing into her chest. Grace has never told anyone those things. Not that they're a secret, as soon as she started realising that she's started fighting for the wrong reasons years ago, she immediately thought she had been stupid and then just accepted it. But she never told anyone, not even Henri.</p><p>Her ultimate goal is and will always be to knock on her parents' door and show them what Grace has become because of them. Sure, her battle began mainly for that, but then she managed to open her eyes and see what was really happening around her. Around the world. Grace had seen that there were many other reasons to fight that war, and suddenly hers became so pointless, so stupid, that she used to forget about it for some time.</p><p>“I’m not asking you to tell me now,” Luz begins, keeping his eyes glued to Grace, “and I’m not asking you to tell it directly to me, but… but I think it'd be good for you to just, like, tell all these things to someone. You always say you've done bad things, things you don't even regret even if you think they're wrong, but you'd do well to unload that burden. Maybe talking about it will make it look less ugly. Or maybe you'll tell someone who makes you realise that you’re not as bad as you think. It’s just my opinion.”</p><p>“Your opinion counts more than anyone else’s,” Grace doesn’t even realise she’s speaking, she just feels her lips moving and sound coming out. “It always has. You’re honest with me, always. You tell me when I say shit, or when I do things wrong, and vice versa. I guess I’m not used to people being completely honest with me, because I used to… <em>snap</em>, whenever I disagreed. So at some point people just stopped because they were scared.”</p><p>“Holy christ,” Luz chuckles.</p><p>“Honestly, Luz, I’m so relieved you guys have gotten to know me at this period in time. You’d hate me if you met me a year ago.”</p><p>“I don’t think we’d ever hate you, but I must say at the beginning you weren't the most approachable person on the planet,” he confesses. Grace raises a brow at him, which he responds to with the weirdest glance ever. “I mean, took you some time to let us in, to let us break that emotional wall of yours.”</p><p>“I guess you’re right,” Grace smiles softly.</p><p>His eyes are so different in moments like these, more soft than Grace knew eyes could be. The jokester soldier is gone, making room for the most valuable person she could ask for. If it were anyone else, Grace would drop her gaze, but with him she feels drawn in closer, always wanting more.</p><p>Luz just pulls out an arm from under the blanket and gestures towards her. “Come here,” he says, and Grace doesn’t think twice before reaching him. She settles at his side, as he throws both of their blankets atop them.</p><p>Grace snuggles up on him and for a moment the freezing cold is gone completely; she rests her head in the hollow of his neck, and feels him surround her with his arm.</p><p>It’s funny how months ago she would never have let herself go like this.</p><p>That position makes her feel braver, and it makes her say what she has wanted to confess ever since Luz asked her to talk about Henri.</p><p>“That night we met, you reminded me of him. And it scared me somehow.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Henri,” Grace says in a feeble voice. “You reminded me of him.”</p><p>“You mean if I asked you to marry me now, you’d say yes?” he jokes, earning a light mocking punch on the chest.</p><p>“Don’t push your luck too hard,” she warns him in a feigned threatening tone, ignoring her stomach doing the jitterbug. “It’s just, you’re very similar. I’d known you for just a few hours, but you had so many aspects in common. The only thing is that I didn’t get along with Henri right away.”</p><p>“Really?” Luz asks, his tone surprised. “I guess it’s a win for me, then.”</p><p>“Yeah, he had a personality opposed to mine. I used to feel taken aback by people like you two, I’ve always been reserved. I used to pull out my cheerful, carefree, flirting self only when I needed it for work. In reality I was just facing life with my wit only. I guess having people like you around used to make me nervous, I wouldn’t know how to deal with you. Henri managed to change that, and I think that’s why you were advantaged, that’s why it was different with you. Because it was Henri who opened the first gap in my emotional wall.”</p><p>“So, it wasn’t love at first sight, then,” Luz states.</p><p>“No. I mean, kinda? We were opposites, we would fight <em>a lot, </em>but there had always been a basis of deep mutual respect and attraction. He fascinated me right away, but at the time I only had tactics, combat and Hitler in mind, it was a different time for me back then. I just had my first jump in enemy territory, my first mission after months of hard training. I was focusing only on that, because I was taught the job, I was taught not to waste a single minute, not to trust. But they were different at the French Resistance, they were more reckless, they were living the war differently. I couldn’t bring myself to let go, to be like that at first. Instead for him it was an immediate thing with me, it seems.”</p><p>Grace feels Luz shift a little beside her. “Yeah, I can relate.”</p><p>“What?” she asks, raising her chin a little to look at him, his stubble tickling her forehead. “You felt that with someone too? You never talked to me about your love life.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, simply because it’s non existent,” he coughs. “But yeah, I guess something similar happened to me. Once.”</p><p>“Tell me about it, pretty please?” Grace pouts, making him snort.</p><p>Luz stays quiet for some time before answering, his body perfectly static under her weight.</p><p>“Well, there’s this girl,” he starts, drawing circles up and down her arm as he talks. “She has the most beautiful green eyes you could think of. The softest brown hair, the most beautiful hands. A smile to die for, whenever she deigns to show it to the world. She just came out of nowhere, when I least expected it. She’s very smart, very witty, very everything and I couldn’t help but feel drawn to her right away.”</p><p>“What’s her name?” Grace asks, thinking that she’s never heard Luz talking about a woman before and it’s sort of a strange feeling. “When did you two meet?”</p><p>“Um, Marie,” he says quickly. “We met at college, but then I dropped out after just a few months and I never saw her again. She’s too good for me, anyway.”</p><p>“That’s bullshit, Luz,” Grace protests, almost as if he offended her personally. “If anything, it seems to me you’d be too good for her. Did she acknowledge you, at least?”</p><p>“I don’t really know, to be honest. She’s so caught up with her ex boyfriend to realise I was there, I guess.”</p><p>“Her loss.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m gonna have to tell her someday.”</p><p>Grace isn't sure she heard that last part of the conversation right, but she prefers not to investigate further. She's glad Luz told her something about his past, because he doesn't talk about it much. She came to the conclusion he prefers to separate military life from personal life, and on the one hand she understands it, on the other she doesn't know if she can relate.</p><p>Both of them stay quiet for some time, Grace just breathing softly into Luz’s neck, when he decides to break the silence at some point saying the words she needed to hear the most.</p><p>“We're okay. We’ll be okay, you and me. Alright?”</p><p>Grace nods, taking in every moment, knowing it's like the medication she needs to survive the upcoming months.</p><p>In all the world there isn't another like Luz, or like Grace for that matter. She just stays quiet.</p><p>“Hey, lovewings!” Muck chirps, appearing out of nowhere. “I’m back.”</p><p>“<em>Lovewings?</em>”</p><p>“That’s not even a word,” Luz lifts a brow at him.</p><p>Muck jumps into the foxhole, handing them his canteen. A strong smell of coffee comes from it, and Grace feels pleasantly inebriated by that scent as if it were a drug. “It is, starting from today. It’s the airborne version of lovebirds<em>.</em>”</p><p>Luz scoffs, handing the canteen to Grace. “Why did it take you so long?”</p><p>“Got caught up with Babe and Bill,” he shrugs, as he fixes himself in front of them, with his legs on Grace’s. “Then Hoob and Johnny came from a patrol, so we just spent some time chatting.”</p><p>While Grace finishes up the lukewarm coffee, she thinks she hasn't seen Guarnere or Martin in a while. The fact is that they're all more or less situated close to one another, but apart from patrols and meals, nobody really wants to get out of their foxhole. Sometimes it's nice to stretch the legs, but every time Grace dares to do it, the Germans decide it's a good time to make it rain bullets.</p><p>Luz pats gently Grace’s leg. “I’m gonna have a walk,” he says as he detangles himself from her. “Can’t feel my butt.”</p><p>Luz sluggishly hops out the foxhole and waves them goodbye. Grace prefers to ignore that funny feeling developing in her stomach that has nothing to do with hunger, but she's sure she won't be able to ignore it for much longer.</p><p>“Can’t believe Christmas is in two days,” Muck huffs at some point. “My third Christmas away from home.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Skip.”</p><p>“No, <em>I’m </em>sorry, given you haven’t been home for much longer. I shouldn’t have complained in the first place.”</p><p>“It’s okay, really,” Grace reassures her friend, poking him kindly on the leg. “I don’t miss home because, as a matter of fact, I’ve never really had one.”</p><p>“What are you gonna do?” he queries, a little reluctant. When Grace’s brows draw together, he continues. “You said once you’ll be using your husband’s money to start a new life in the States. If you don’t have a home, what are you gonna do?”</p><p>Truth is, Grace doesn’t know. A little bit ashamed of thinking that, Grace thinks that she would like to find a place not far from Richard, as to never lose each other ever again. However, all this will depend on whether he will want to return to Lancaster; in that case, Grace isn't sure if this is the right decision for her.</p><p>“Honestly, Skip, I don’t really know.”</p><p>Muck nibbles on his bottom lip. “Tonawanda has loads of opportunities, ya know,” he starts, and Grace feels her eyes welling up. “Faye's aunt and uncle run a café, you might try. It's a simple, quiet job, where nobody wants to kill you, at least. Unless you make terrible coffee, in that case I'd totally get them…” he mocks her and she feels her eyes getting more swollen by the minute. “But, I mean, I get it if you don’t want to. You’ll be able to be free for the first time, Grace, you’ll need to find something that makes you happy. I just thought a decent job and a few friends there to help you, it’ll be a nice start.”</p><p>“Skip…” she starts, trying to keep from jumping on him and crushing him with hugs. “I promise you I’ll think about it. I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do, the only thing I’m good at is killing people, it seems. So, I guess making coffee will be a nice start.”</p><p>Muck seems quite content with the answer, he lights up with one of his unmistakable smiles.</p><p>Grace is a bit ashamed of never having thought about job opportunities once the war will be over. The fact is, she always thought she wouldn't get out of it alive, but what if she will? In that case, what could she do? There aren't many things she can do on a professional level. Of course, she's a hell of an agent - without being too modest - she can tinker with the majority of devices quite well, she can read maps. But what use are these things in an ordinary life, once this is all over?</p><p>In the worst case scenario where no one wants her, she could still buy a nice, quiet property in the woods and live off Henri's money.</p><p><em>What a beautiful life prospect, Grace</em>, she scolds herself.</p><p>“Do you happen to have a piece of paper and a pen?” Grace asks Muck out of the blue.</p><p>Muck frowns. “Since when do you write letters?”</p><p>“Just this one. Just today.”</p><p>“May I ask who’s the lucky one?” he queries with an eyebrow raised, as he pulls out a piece of paper from his satchel.</p><p>She really doesn’t know how to explain it to him, she can’t even properly explain it to herself. But Grace needs to do this, she needs it to finally be able to move forward in her life - god knows how much time she has left.</p><p>“I’m writing to the dead.”</p><p>“That sounds exciting,” Muck says suspiciously, his brows knitted. “You sure you’re okay?”</p><p>Grace nods. “Actually, I very much am, Skip! I don’t know how to explain this to you, but I feel like I’m getting rid of the last brick in my wall. And this letter is the key.”</p><p>Muck is still looking at her quizzically, but he stays quiet, leaning back on the wall of their hole.</p><p>“<em>Dear Henri,</em>” she writes and the feeling is so odd; it’s been a long, long time since she got to write a letter. What was she supposed to write, anyway? She bites on the pen and starts again.</p><p>
  <em>Dear Henri,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It certainly is odd writing your name, writing a letter I know for sure will never reach the addressee. I know you’re gone and that writing to you might seem pointless, but I feel like I need it. A friend of mine suggested that I unload certain things from my past, and I want to start by getting rid of a few, old weights on my chest.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ll be rather quick because I borrowed only a tiny piece of paper from my friend Skip, and I already feel guilty about it because I know he needs it to write to his girlfriend.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The misery of your departure haunted me for so long, Henri.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The knowledge that you’d never come home to me pained me. Sometimes I would stay awake at night, looking for you, waiting for you, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Hoping that, once I would wake up in the morning, you would be there with a tray full of coffee and sweets. We actually never had that, but I used to dream of a life like that with you. A life without having to worry about anything. A life just for us.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I just needed you to come home.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I used to think there's no sunshine without you, no rain without you. If you wanna know what it's like to live without a heart, just ask me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For some time now, I've been feeling mixed emotions towards you. I have always loved you and I will always love you, you're my first, but I need to tell you that from now on I want to live my life without seeking your approval.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You're fucking dead, okay?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You've been gone for a while. And I don't want to feel guilty every time someone looks at me, I don't want to feel guilty every time I look back at them. I used to think there wouldn't be a life without you, you know? I told myself I wouldn't be able to survive the war anyway, so what difference did it make? But now so many things have happened, so many people have happened, I've also found my childhood friend, Richard - you would like him very much, and I know he would like you just the same.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I want something from you, I want a sign that I'm doing the right thing. Deep down I know you would like me to rebuild my life, but I always thought it wasn't fair to you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But you're gone, Henri, and I discovered that I want to live.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I know that you believed in God, that you believed in a life after death, so please if you're watching me from up there I want you to know that no matter what happens, whoever comes into my life, you will always be in my heart.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Always yours, Grace.</em>
</p><p>A loud snore comes from Muck. She didn't even realise he fell asleep, how long has she been writing?</p><p>Grace folds the letter and places it carefully in the inside pocket of her jacket, next to the photograph. She can't describe the feeling she has at that moment, but it's a mixture of satisfaction and liberation and sadness. Her Aunt Cathy always told her that writing down deep thoughts helps to get rid of them - it's as if by putting them on paper, somehow you manage to free a part of your mind, and make room for other feelings.</p><p>Henri has been dead for a year, and a year is long and enough time for grieving. Grace can't afford any more time.</p><p>She drops her head back, feeling her hair immediately soak in the cold snow; she blinks at the sky, while the clouds run quickly over that vast blue expanse that looks like an ocean.</p><p>Grace smiles to herself when, unexpectedly, the wind shapes the cloud above her to the shape of a heart. She takes it as a sign. She takes it as if Henri understood.</p><p>
  <em>Thanks, my love.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. God Bless You All</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Grace is back! I hope you enjoy  :)</p><p>Thank you so much Angie for your help as always!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
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</p><p>
  <em> “Medic!” </em>
</p><p>Three. It's the third time that day that the stillness of the woods is shattered by German artillery. </p><p>Grace had gone quietly to pee when the first explosion erupted nearby, just as she was returning to her foxhole. She feels something violently stinging her arm and her first reaction is to check what it is, but the foxhole is just a few steps away and hell if she’s going to stay in the open a second longer. She doesn't think twice before jumping in - hitting Luz in the face with her elbow while he's helping her.</p><p>“Oh shit, Luz, sorry!”</p><p>Luz says nothing, instead he hugs his head and curls up beside her.</p><p>
  <em> “Medic!” </em>
</p><p>That goes on for a few minutes, just like the last time. And the one before. And the other one before that. </p><p>Grace feels Muck’s legs shaking against her, when the shelling suddenly stops. She stays with her hands covering her ears for a little bit longer, just in case; not that it would make any difference, it’s just how it goes. </p><p>All around them now there’s silence.</p><p>“Grace,” Luz mumbles at some point and she thinks it’s finally time to face the world again, “there’s blood on your sleeve.”</p><p>With the rush of the moment, Grace had completely forgotten that sting from before. She looks down and indeed the sleeve of the jacket has definitely taken on a crimson colour. She pulls it up slowly, it's incredible how the exact moment one uncovers an inch of skin, suddenly it feels like entering a freezer. Her wrist is covered in blood and Grace doesn't know if it’s because the adrenaline is abandoning her or what, but the more she looks at the wound the more she feels weakened by the blood loss. </p><p>With the other sleeve, Grace wipes the blood away and notices a cut in her wrist, but it doesn't seem to be anything to worry about. It's probably due to a splinter from the explosion.</p><p>“Are you hurt?” Muck asks, his voice worried.</p><p>“I’m okay, it’s just a scratch,” she declares with a faint smile. “Do you happen to have a bandage? I gave mine to Gene the other day.”</p><p>“You sure, because that looks like a lot of blood?” Luz questions in an inquisitive tone that sounds so odd coming from him.</p><p>“I’m fine, look,” Grace shows him the cut, which can’t be more than three inches. “It's normal to lose this amount of blood with wrist cuts, really. The wound is superficial, now I'm gonna bandage it well and in a few days it will be gone. So, that bandage?”</p><p>“I’m clean out too, sorry, Grace,” Muck apologies.</p><p>“Same here.”</p><p>Grace curses under her breath, looking around to try to find something to wrap her wrist but obviously there’s nothing. Just snow. So much snow. So she does the only thing that comes to mind: Grace takes off her boot, then the sock - her teeth chattering hard when the skin accidentally makes contact with the snow - and she wraps it up around her wrist. She hopes that her foot wouldn’t mind being bare until she finds some real bandages.</p><p>“Told you guys socks are vital,” Muck declares.</p><p>Grace smiles, and suddenly hears the snow crunch under the weight of someone's footsteps. Suddenly Lipton appears in her view, his eyes worried and his rifle secured in his arms.</p><p>“You guys okay?” he asks.</p><p>“Yeah,” Muck answers for all of them. “Smarty here got a minor wound, but we’re okay.”</p><p>“Do I need to send you Spina, Grace?” Lipton queries, stretching his neck to search for a wound. “Roe’s gone off to Bastogne with Skinny.”</p><p>“Skinny?” Grace gulps, her heart racing fast. “Is he-”</p><p>“He got hit, but I think he’s gonna be okay. So, Spina?”</p><p>Grace shakes her head. “It can wait. Just, have him treat those who need it the most first.”</p><p>Lipton agrees with a nod of the head, then he scans them with his eyes once again, as if he's making sure that everything is really okay before leaving.</p><p>“Do you guys happen to know where Dike is?”</p><p>Grace stares at Lipton intensely, noticing how good he is at hiding tiredness and worry. But his eyes don’t lie, and Grace is a great reader of emotions.</p><p>“Probably playing hide and seek with death somewhere,” she says, sighing. “Who knows who’s gonna win eventually.”</p><p>With a nod of the head, Lipton tries to give them a small smile, which turns into a weird grimace. “Right.”</p><p>“‘m coming with you, Lip, need to stretch my legs,” Grace announces, using Luz's knees to try to get to her feet. Not even fifteen minutes have passed since she took a walk, but her legs already feel stiff. It's amazing how the cold gets deep into the bones. “Also, I could use some company, I’m tired of these two whiny morons.”</p><p>“Oi, who’s the one who invited themselves in the Luz-Muck foxhole?” Muck raises a brow, trying to make her trip while she’s exiting the foxhole. Grace sticks out her tongue, giggling at them. Life itself is far from certain at the moment, but if there’s something that she’s confident enough is that she could never get tired of either of them. Not even when they spend twenty four hours a day together: sleeping together, eating together, breathing together. Grace can’t imagine a life without that.</p><p>“I was just taking advantage because you’re the most cuddly, and I’m always cold.”</p><p>“Are you listening to this, Skip?” Luz complains, struggling to hold back a laugh. “No more hugs for you, young lady.”</p><p>Grace shrugs. “I’ll go ask Bull for shelter then,” she declares, tugging at Lipton’s jacket as an invitation to move on. “His hugs are bigger and warmer than the two of you combined.”</p><p>“Yeah, you weren’t complaining last night, you little shit,” Muck laughs, shaking his head. Grace cackles, then waves goodbye and starts to follow Lipton when Muck calls for her. “Hey!”</p><p>“Mh?”</p><p>“You promised you’d come,” he just says, narrowing his eyes, his index finger pointing menacingly at her.</p><p>“What are you talking about?” Grace asks, and a moment later she’s struck by a flash. “Oh, that.”</p><p>“Yeah, <em> that. </em>”</p><p>“I’ll be there, don’t worry,” Grace waves her hand again, and sets off to join Lipton who had momentarily stopped to wait for her. “I always keep my promises.”</p><p>“You better!” Muck shouts.</p><p>“What’s this all about?” she hears Luz asking, and a small smile plays on her lips.</p><p>“What’s this all about?” Lipton parrots as they walk away, seeming sincerely curious.</p><p>Grace scoffs. “There’s gonna be a worship service conducted by the chaplain later,” she explains, kicking a small branch that was on her way, “I promised Skip I’d go with him.”</p><p>“Didn’t take you for a believer,” is Lipton’s comment.</p><p>“I’m not, indeed. But for some reason he cares so much that I go with him. He's been harassing me since Aldbourne, honestly. I thought might as well indulge him this time, we could die any moment, anyway. And... it doesn't hurt to seek some comfort in this kind of thing, right?”</p><p>If the Grace from a few months ago had heard these words come out of her own mouth, she probably wouldn't have believed it. She doesn't think that going to a mass once will make her suddenly feel like a servant of God or start praying. But hearing a few words of comfort certainly won't hurt her, and it's not that she has other commitments at the moment, quite the contrary; anything to get away from that damn foxhole for a while.</p><p>And then she promised it to her friend.</p><p>Lipton doesn’t say anything, but Grace sees him smiling softly under the collar of his jacket. </p><p>“Hey, Lip.” He turns to her this time. “I, um, I just wanted to thank you.”</p><p>“Thank me?” His confused expression makes her smile, she’s not used to seeing it appear on his face. “What for?”</p><p>“Are you really asking?” Grace almost laughs, poking him on the shoulder. “Honestly, if it wasn’t for you and the other officers, we’d all be going mad by now. You going around asking people if they’re okay, lifting their morale up, just, being there for them. It means a lot. It means <em> everything </em>at the moment. And it’s not even your call.”</p><p>“I do what I gotta do,” he explains quietly. “Thank you for telling me, though, I’m glad it helps.”</p><p>“It does. You’re more CO than our actual CO, it’s kinda sad if you think about it.”</p><p>“Dike is…”</p><p>“<em> Don’t </em>you even think about coming up with excuses for that sorry ass man,” Grace interrupts him, realising she’s coming out with more rage than she wanted to. “He’s gonna get us all killed at some point. And I swear to god if that happens I’m gonna resurrect myself just to murder him.”</p><p>A rough cackle escapes Lipton’s mouth, somehow suffocated by the fabric of the collar. </p><p>Everything Grace told him is true. Someone had to tell Carwood Lipton that he himself is making the difference these days. Unlike their commander, Lipton is always there. He’s there when they need it, he’s there when they don’t need it. Grace is confident that if there were more people like him, the world wouldn’t suck this much.</p><p>Lipton takes out a hand from his pocket just to ruffle Grace’s hair.</p><p>“I was going to say he’s a ghost,” he says.</p><p>Grace grumbles. “Believe me, I know all about being a ghost and he’s definitely not a ghost. Ghosts are there, you might not see them, but they’re there. He’s not. He’s just useless. He fucks off wherever, leaving us dealing with barrages every hour of the day. Bet he’s never seen a bullet in all his life.”</p><p>“You sure don’t like the man.”</p><p>“Who does?” Grace looks heavenward. “Can I tell you something? I need to get it off my chest and I’m hundred percent positive you won’t judge. Even if you probably should.”</p><p>“Sure thing,” Lipton says just as they pass next to a foxhole where Liebgott and Alley are having a heated argument about something. “I promise I won’t judge.”</p><p>Grace waves at her friends as they keep walking, then moves her gaze to her feet; she doesn’t even know where they’re going and guesses Lipton doesn’t either. But it’s nice just walking around, not having to worry about the cold freezing her joints.</p><p>“Well, I don’t wanna sound presumptuous or something, but I kinda miss being in charge. Leading. I miss operations, I miss being useful. I miss stakeouts, organising ambushes, the adrenaline that boils under your skin the moment before you have to throw a grenade into a fucking van full of SS officers. It’s just- staying here… staying here, scrunched up in foxholes doing nothing but trying to survive the day, it’s so, so frustrating. And ten times harder than an actual fight. And I also feel so fucking hypocrite, because at the same time all I want is for this to be finally over.”</p><p>Grace feels Lipton’s gentle touch on her arm, stopping their walk. He doesn’t say anything at first, he just stares at her with his sad but gentle eyes.</p><p>“You’re not a hypocrite, Grace, you’re just tired like everybody else,” Lipton says wisely, his tone always so kind that Grace can’t really imagine him being angry or annoyed at somebody. Not even Dike. “You have no reason to feel presumptuous to think all of those things, it's normal that after years of service you're missing your old position. It’s been your life for years, after all. It can't be easy to go from leading people, to being led. I admire you a lot for that, and I'm sure the others do too. And don't ever think for a single moment that you're useless, that's not the case at all. You're a very good and strong soldier and you've proved yourself several times. It's just that the situation right now is what it is and there isn't much that can be done. We just have to wait and see what the future holds. If there’ll be a future at all, that is.”</p><p>The respect Grace holds for him is like an aged cheese. It becomes stronger with time, more mature, more robust. Lipton is unfailingly kind, he always puts others first and himself last. No matter how tired he is. Grace's admiration for her sergeant is deep seated and long lasting.</p><p>But it's not just her that has such a high opinion of him. The whole company does. He’s more than a brother figure to all of them, he's a true leader and they could never ask for someone else.</p><p>“Thanks for understanding,” she smiles up at him and represses the urge to hug him. “Sometimes I wonder where I’d be if my family hadn’t been so shitty to me. I would probably have a boring job at some office somewhere, a living husband, maybe a couple of kids.”</p><p>“That’d be great, but also sad because you wouldn’t be here to save our asses,” Lipton comments, starting to move again. Grace follows him, smiling, thanking heaven for Carwood Lipton. “Okay so, since our CO is nowhere to be found, I’m gonna head to CP, there’s some stuff I need to discuss with Captain Winters. Wanna tag along?”</p><p>Grace nibbles on her bottom lip. “I wish, but I’m probably heading back. Don’t wanna miss the mass, you know.”</p><p>“Right, don’t wanna piss Muck off!”</p><p>“He can’t even pretend to be annoyed at me for two minutes straight, so I’m not worried about that,” Grace says, making Lipton chuckle a little. “See you around, Lip. Say hi to Richard from me. I mean, to Captain Winters.”</p><p>“That’s alright. I will.”</p><p>Grace stares at his back while he walks away, thinking that a little trip to Richard would have been a good idea, after all. But she’s a woman of her word, and she promised Muck she would attend the worship service.</p><p>“Hey, Smarty!” she turns, finding Gordon and More waving energetically towards her.</p><p>With one last look to the exact spot where Lipton just disappeared, Grace decides to reach her friends and spend some time with them before heading back.</p><p> </p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p> </p><p>Grace wonders what it feels like to believe in someone whose existence is questionable, when she can barely believe in the majority of the people she has actually met.</p><p>She scrutinises the chaplain carefully, a man who cannot be more than thirty, his glasses slowly sliding over his nose; every so often he tries to put them back in their place, but invariably they slide down. Grace might not believe in God and prayers, but she has a deep respect for this man - and those like him - who go through hard training and parachute themselves into enemy territory just to give a few words of comfort to the soldiers and blessing those who die.</p><p>At her right, Muck is holding his black cross close to his mouth, as if to kiss it, and he's talking to himself under his breath. Grace suspects that he's reciting the chaplain's words from memory.</p><p>She smiles to herself.</p><p>Grace is not really listening to those prayers, she lost attention after 'today we are gathered here...', instead she took time to observe her comrades. Never before has she seen them so tired and exhausted. Some of them have superficial wounds on the hands and face - the only two places where the skin is visible - but the most obvious wounds are in everybody's eyes: tiredness, frustration, hunger, cold, the desire to go home are so evident in all of them that a knot forms in her stomach.</p><p>How long will this story go on?</p><p>How long will the cold and snow keep them from home?</p><p>How long will their thoughts only be about survival and the Germans?</p><p>Grace sighs to herself, probably too loud as Muck nudges her arm lightly.</p><p>“Fight well for God and your country,” the chaplain is now saying, looking at all the soldiers in the eyes. When he meets Grace’s gaze, she moves her eyes down to her hands. “God bless you all. Stay safe.”</p><p>“That’s it, guys,” Muck comments next. “Nothing to worry about. We’re gonna die now, we’re gonna die in a state of grace. Isn’t that right, Babe?”</p><p>“Consoling,” Heffron replies. </p><p>“I’d rather die in Grace’s arms,” Luz sighs, studying her face trying to figure out if she got the joke. “See what I did there?”</p><p>“You have no idea how many puns I had to bear all my life, that’s far from original,” she rolls her eyes at him. </p><p>“Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like a laugh, or ‘I’d rather you don’t die at all, George’,” Luz protests, shaking his head as they start following the chosen ones for the patrol. It’s mainly 1st Platoon, but Malarkey as well as Heffron and another couple of guys are joining in. It’s been a long time since Grace has been out on a major patrol: since they got to Bastogne, Peacock usually sends her off with Hoobler and Perconte, a couple of times with Randleman or Martin. </p><p>Grace pretends to trip over Luz to tease him, with the result that he almost ends up smashed into a tree. Instead of taking revenge on her, Luz simply laughs his usual, contagious laugh, putting his arm around Grace's neck and rubbing his knuckles on her head. In the act of recovering from that mini fight, Grace notices that Roe is following them.</p><p>“Gene!” she exclaims, almost startling him. “Gene, how’s Skinny?”</p><p>Roe nods. “He’ll be fine, I suppose.”</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“Got hit on the leg,” Roe explains. He’s weary. “Screwed up his knee quite a bit, but he’s being taken care of. He’ll be okay.”</p><p>Grace nods, wondering if she will be able to see him again.</p><p>“What happened to your arm?” Roe asks then, pointing at Grace as he comes closer to her.</p><p>At first, Grace doesn't know what he’s talking about so she lowers her gaze and notices her sleeve still covered in blood, a piece of sock emerging from the cuff.</p><p>“Oh, yeah, actually I could use one of those bandages I gave you the other day,” she says as he rolls up her sleeve to take a look. When he realises she had been wrapped the wound with a sock, he lifts a brow at her. “That’s… it was the only thing in handy.”</p><p>The two stop so that Roe can fix her wrist properly. She lets him work on it, suppressing a groan when he removes the sock that had been stuck to her skin by dried blood. Meanwhile, the group has stopped a little further on, and Grace watches as her comrades prepare for the patrol.</p><p>“Here you go,” Roe announces, giving her a small smile and the two of them reach the others.</p><p>“Peacock’s leading,” Grace hears someone say.</p><p>Luz scoffs. “That asshole couldn’t find a snowball in a blizzard.”</p><p>“Will you ever stop that whiny ass of yours?” she scolds him, securing her rifle well on her back. Grace checks that everything is in order, feeling her calf to make sure that her beloved knife is in place. Just in case. She then puts on the helmet while Martin announces to everyone to adopt a tactical column.</p><p>They walk in utter silence for some time. In the meantime it began to snow, a calm and soft snowfall, the flakes gently settle on Grace's nose. The white and silent forest is a wonderful sight as much as it's disturbing; probably in other circumstances Grace would have loved it, but after living there for a full week she believes she will no longer be able to appreciate snow ever again.</p><p>Grace holds tight onto her M1, waiting.</p><p>“Martin, Julian,” Peacock calls, gesturing to them to go forward.</p><p>Maybe a full minute passes until Grace hears a round of shots breaking the stillness of the afternoon.</p><p>
  <em> Oh, no. </em>
</p><p>It takes her all the strength in her body to glue her feet onto the ground and not follow the noises.</p><p>“Bull! Christenson! Up on line!” Martin screams.</p><p>“Shit,” Peacock curses as he watches Randleman and Christenson running off. “Whitehead, find yourself a good spot and take down as many sons of bitches as you can. I’m relying on your aim,” he says firmly, then moves his gaze to the rest of the men. “You all scatter all over the perimeter and return the fire as hard as you can! I’m gonna go to the CP, telling them we made contact. This shit needs to end right now.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>Grace has never been particularly in keeping with Peacock's methods since he took over 1st Platoon from Welsh, but a spark of pride rose to her throat the moment he touched her arm and told her<em> I'm relying on your aim. </em></p><p>And she completely agrees with him: this story needs to end.</p><p>Grace runs towards the increasingly deafening and frequent noises, immediately finding herself in the middle of the battle, bullets flying everywhere, ripping into the trees. She's sure Luz was right next to her, but now she has lost sight of him. </p><p>After a quick scan of their location, Grace notices a perfect spot next to Christenson.</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye she sees a body laying on the ground, squirming, and feels her blood boiling in her throat.</p><p>
  <em> No... </em>
</p><p>She flattens herself in the snow behind a thick log, putting the barrel of the gun between one broken branch and the other. She takes a moment to check who the wounded soldier is, immediately realising that it's Julian, a replacement and Heffron's foxhole partner.</p><p>Grace then manages to shut down all the chaos around her. </p><p>Gunshots and screams are just muffled sounds in her ears, as she moves herself into the prone position, looking through the scope. Senses sharpened with adrenaline, Grace holds her breath, straining to hear with every ounce of her concentration. </p><p>The snow continues to fall, now a little thicker, and it's really difficult to try to distinguish a human silhouette in the midst of all that greyness. For a moment she thinks she sees movement, the glint of something, and so Grace pulls the trigger. Once, twice, three times. She can't tell if she actually managed to hit someone, but at least she tries.</p><p>Grace now sees two men behind a machine gun, how the hell she didn't see them sooner? </p><p>The bullets spit out non stop from her rifle, hitting one of the men in the chest, propelling him backward. He falls into the nothingness. The moment his partner realises he's dead costs him his own life. Grace puts a bullet in his chest too.</p><p>“We gotta make a move!” come the muffled voice of Randleman.</p><p>Suddenly Grace is no longer in her bubble, and chaos reigns around her once again.</p><p>“Julian!” Heffron is yelling at his friend, who’s still alive and still squirming on the ground. “I can get him, sarge!”</p><p>“Babe, don’t you dare!” Grace shouts, starting to shoot in the direction of the bursts of machine gun fire and hoping to hit somebody else. </p><p>She hears him yelling something to her, but she can’t quite catch the grasp of it with all that noise. Probably he just told her to fuck off.</p><p>“Stay there! Don’t move!” she now hears him shouting to Julian. “Stop moving or they’ll keep shooting!”</p><p>“Pull back! We gotta pull back!” Christenson shouts, his gun has never stopped firing since they got there.</p><p>“Let’s get the hell outta here!”</p><p>“Johnny, we gotta go!” Grace yells. “Now!”</p><p>“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Martin finally agrees as soldiers start pulling back. “Move! Go!”</p><p>Grace moves away from her position, her gaze settling on Julian. There’s no chance for him, not a single chance. Now she can see him well, his eyes wide as well as the hole in his throat.</p><p>And for what?</p><p>“Come on, stay with us. Hold on!” Heffron shouts, his eyes never leaving his doomed friend. “Julian, stay with us! Look at me. Stay with us! Hold on!</p><p>“Babe, we gotta go, for fuck’s sake!” Grace reaches him, grabbing his arm. He shrugs her off, and Grace can't decide which is more sad: Julian's fate or Heffron's hope.</p><p>“Heffron, move!”</p><p>“Don’t move, we’re coming back!” he tells Julian. </p><p>Grace looks at Julian directly in his eyes, knowing for sure that will be the last time.</p><p> </p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p> </p><p>There's something the SOE radioman, Denis Rake, used to tell Grace after Henri died. </p><p>
  <em> Let grief flow through you as a river in the mountains - it will erode, it will create new channels, so your new self can arise as more beautiful than ever. </em>
</p><p>She thinks about Denis, who wasn't as lucky as Grace and his body broke when he landed right in a tree on D-Day.</p><p>Grace also thinks about that phrase as she watches Babe Heffron mourning Julian. </p><p>She doesn't know how many rivers are flowing inside him right now, but it sure looks like they won't make his self arise more beautiful than ever.</p><p>Grace didn't know Julian well, she had just few opportunities to talk to him, but his death gives her an absolute, uncountable anger. What exactly did he die for? Why?</p><p>She finally moves her gaze away from Heffron, and her eyes meet Malarkey’s; he gives her a small smile, which she really can’t bring herself to return back.</p><p>A sudden movement at her side makes her startle, realising it’s only Richard.</p><p>“Hey, let me sit in here with you guys,” he says as he drops himself between her and Randleman.</p><p>Grace spoke with him just a few days ago, yet he seems to have aged ten years since then. She can’t help but wonder if he thinks the same about her. Possibly. Surely.</p><p>“You okay?” he asks her.</p><p>“No.” Grace doesn’t even realise she’s speaking, she just felt her lips moving and a curt sound coming out from her mouth. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to sound rude.”</p><p>“No need to apologise, Grace.”</p><p>“Right,” she mumbles, starting torturing her cuticles. “What about the body?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Julian’s body.” Grace dares to look at Richard in his eyes, finding him already staring. “They’re gonna leave it to the Krauts or what?”</p><p>“I’m gonna have Peacock send someone to bring him back later, with dusk.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“What’s on your mind?” Richard asks quietly, almost afraid of what he might hear.</p><p>Right, what’s on her mind? Too many things to count, too many thoughts to contain, too much anger to deal with. Too much of everything.</p><p>Grace’s mouth twitches. “You don’t really wanna know. <em> I </em>don’t even know.”</p><p>“I can have you be my runner for a couple of days, if it’ll help take your mind off things,” Richard suggests with a gentle tone.</p><p>That would seriously be great, in Grace’s opinion. Her ass won’t be shelled every couple of hours, her ass won’t also be stiff and sore from too many hours hunkered down in foxholes… it almost sounds like a lovely vacation.</p><p>“No,” she decides eventually. “I’d rather stay with my friends.”</p><p>Richard nods and silence falls between them. </p><p>Grace releases a rough cough, stinging her already scratchy throat. She does it so often that she can no longer distinguish when it's because of dehydration or the cold. </p><p>She tries to warm up a bit by wrapping her arms around her torso, but now any attempt to warm up led to almost nothing. Grace has reached a point where her body has become kind of used to the cold that she no longer feels it burning deep in her skin like the first few days; every now and then it gets to her head, as if someone were trying to get in with a screwdriver. Sometimes she would lose the sensitivity of her fingers and cheeks, and it was as if her body was telling her 'well, either bear this or die, your choice'. </p><p>And Grace doesn't want to die.</p><p>Grace sighs, thinking that at least Julian didn't need to worry about these things anymore.</p><p>She closes her eyes and the first image that displays in her mind is the chaplain’s expression right before they were sent off the patrol that feels like days ago. </p><p><em> God bless you all </em>, he said. </p><p>Grace really wishes those words meant something more to her.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>» info «</p><p>-  I don't know if you know this, but John Julian actually died on January 1st, 1945, and not before Christmas like they did on the show!  Also, I did some research but I couldn't find anything about his body being recovered, I want to believe they tried and took him home</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always thank you Angie for helping me always &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That morning Grace wakes up to the clouds looking like white marble on blue satin; giant curtains drifting away in the sky, revealing a pale sun for the first time in a long time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinks a few times, trying to figure out if it was really happening, or if she's still asleep and still in her dreams. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if someone had heard her thoughts and wanted to prove that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> reality, a deafening and familiar roar catches her all of a sudden, startling both Muck and Luz next to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Luz asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace looks around, hearing excited voices coming from all sides, soldiers running scattered in the woods and that noise closer than ever… above their heads.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No way…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a sudden movement, Grace and the others break free from their blankets and jump out of their foxhole, running wildly and catching up with the men who are waving excitedly at the planes in the sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Planes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a second or two for the information to sink in, even though it's right before her eyes, larger than life. Then Grace feels her lips stretch wider into a gaping grin as she can't take her eyes off the sky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They made it. They're here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s C-47s,” she mutters, more to herself. “C-47s, it’s a drop! They’re resupplying us!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, more than a week after their arrival, they will have an extra blanket to warm up their days and nights, a hot meal, ammunition, medical supplies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps due to the general good mood, that day passed rather quickly. Grace spent most of the time in the foxhole cuddled up with her buddies Muck and Luz, and a couple of extra blankets and a chocolate bar really do make a difference against that freezing chill. She then was sent out on a patrol, this time with Bull; as an extension of the good mood, nothing happened this time, no bullets, no Germans, no nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now Grace is enjoying some kind of stew, she doesn't know exactly what it is, but it's pleasantly warming her stomach and for that she doesn't complain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently Talbert is of the same opinion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m telling you guys,” he starts with his mouth full, “I don’t wanna know what this is, but heck my stomach says thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like I’ve never tasted anything better,” Hoobler comments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s debatable, man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I think it’s good. It’s real food at least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To that, Grace can’t help but agree. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what I crave at this very moment?” Grace asks, moving her gaze heavenward as to expect food dropping from the sky. “My maid’s mushroom </span>
  <em>
    <span>bisque</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hell, that was the best hot meal you could ask for, hands down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s a bisque?” Martin raises a brow, spitting out some food on the snow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold on,” Talbert forgets about the stew for a moment and settles his inquisitive eyes on her. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your maid?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace shrugs. “I used to have one when I lived in Paris, before the whole bounty on my head thing. Camille was her name. Long story short, Henri pulled her out of a shitty family and offered her a life with us because she had nowhere to go. We treated her like one of our own, but obviously living with us wasn’t easy. Still, after all she’s seen, after all she’s endured, Camille never once gave us away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Grace closed her eyes now, she could clearly see Camille's delicate face, that faint smile she reserved only for her whenever she served tea on Sunday afternoons. She was a friend first, and then a maid. Who knows where she is now, who knows if she's still in Paris. If she's still alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I knew your husband was rich, but not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>rich,” Martin lets out a whistle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, he was a very rich industrialist, Johnny,” she replies, putting her empty bowl at her feet. “Not that it did any good to him, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A maid,” Talbert says again, nodding to himself, still impressed by that new discovery. “Do you miss that life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace turns her gaze to Talbert, meeting his bright eyes that for once expect a serious response and not mockery - which occurs in ninety-five percent of their conversations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what I miss?” she starts, the corner of her mouth lifting up. “My high heels. And my red coat. Ah, my favourite coat! It was cherry red, bold and pretty. Henri used to say it looked like a petal, making me look like his rose. Oh, and don’t get me started on my lipstick collection!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Talbert erupts into a loud cackle, followed immediately by both Martin and Hoobler, poking her on the leg.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I can’t picture you in fine clothes,” Martin comments, starting to look at her from head to toe as if expecting to see her turning her uniform into an evening dress by a snap of her fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Neither do I, actually,” Hoobler agrees, smiling softly. “No need, though, I like you just like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still, I used to wear fancy clothes all the time, boys,” Grace shrugs, smiling to herself at the levity of the conversation, which she didn't mind at all at that moment. It might sound a bit bizarre, but thinking about her lipsticks and the frivolities of her old life makes her feel for a moment as if she's not imprisoned in a ten-degree-below-zero Belgian forest. It makes her feel oddly calm, and a little bit nostalgic. “Engaged in a fire fight in my heels once. It was… well, I’d be lying if I’d say it was fun, but it was quite the experience.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rose</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m really trying to imagine you with red lipstick on but it’s too damn difficult,” Talbert informs her, and Grace can’t help but laugh at the nickname. “It’s just, we’ve only been seeing you in uniform and covered in mud or snow, I bet you look like a whole new other person all cleaned up like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to believe I do, Tab,” she mocks him, nudging his elbow lightly. “Since I was a child, my mother taught me posture and manners and how to behave, how to look like a proper lady. That's probably the one and only good thing she's done for me. I know you'll probably think it's foolish and conceited, but the reality is that dressing up nicely and putting some colour on my cheeks and lips, was one of the few things that kept me grounded, that made me feel like a normal girl. Seeing myself pretty on the outside helped me not to think about how broken I was on the inside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace has never told that to anyone. It’s odd, but also nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace gets lost in her thoughts, so she startles a little bit when she feels an arm surrounding her shoulders. It's Talbert, who's holding her tight and rubbing gently his thumb up and down her arm. Grace lets herself go, a little surprised because she never thought he was the type. But oh well, she wasn't either, after all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m taking advantage now that you’re more malleable,” he teases her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace is about to give him one of her stinging comments, but she decides that this time she will settle for the truth. She glances up at both Hoobler and Martin, trying to give them the most sincere smile she can.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That's all thanks to you. Really, I’d still be a cold rock without y’all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, that’s adorable,” Martin says, his voice a little higher than normal and Grace wonders if he's making fun of her. The answer comes after just a few seconds. “You kinda were a cold rock, though. Understandable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coming from the king of glares that says a lot,” Grace remarks, lifting a brow as she untangles herself from Talbert’s arms. Martin shakes his head, but there at the corner of his full lips there’s a crease of amusement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you were alright,” Hoobler says as a reassurance, nodding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember the first time we met,” Talbert steps in, his face all scrunched up as if he’s having trouble remembering something important.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were </span>
  <em>
    <span>enchanted.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you were ‘thanks but no thanks’,” Talbert shakes his head. “Such a cheap little asshole who can’t take a compliment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, and you were-” Grace stops herself just in time. After an awkward moment the corner of her mouth twitches into her cheek. “Never mind, I’ll tell you when you’re older.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Might take some time for that, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And still you deny being a cheap little asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t deny, just ignored it,” she declares. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here we go again,” Martin scoffs, standing up and stretching his arms. “I’ll leave you to your neverending banter. You coming, Hoob?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You kidding?” Hoobler protests, eyes lit up. “I’m staying. The presidential debate is nothing compared to theirs!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All four of them erupt into a loud laughter, so free and pure, almost childish despite their adult years. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A bitter cold burns Grace's cheeks, as she gathers up all her strength to try not to move. She's been in a prone position for nearly a minute and yet her neck muscles are fit to spasm. It feels like her elbow has melded to the damp ground and her legs won't work when it's time to pack up and run.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lucky few are somewhere in the woods, the rest are at the front line and Grace is one of them. She can clearly hear the roaring sound of the engines long before she sees the tanks and the Germans. A lot of Germans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, and it's Christmas Eve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold your fire, boys. Don’t let them draw you out. Stay ready, boys,” she hears Richard’s voice but she doesn’t dare move her head to look at him. With the corner of her eye, Grace sees him running between the foxholes, encouraging his men. “Hold your fire. Get ready, Walter. Stay in your holes, guys!” And then he’s gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right in that moment she hears bombs going off somewhere nearby. Hoobler and Luz startle next to her, one of them scratching his boot on her calf accidentally. She doesn’t care, she only tries to focus on her scope and all the Germans that she will take down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she hears a scream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Smokey’s hit! Medic!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, not him…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Recklessly she turns her head, knowing that Gordon is only two foxholes away from her. From a distance she just sees an motionless figure inside, then someone pulls Gordon out of his foxhole and drags him away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Smokey..." she mumbles softly, anger and anxiety boiling in her stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Germans are many, so many, and they're advancing quickly. Grace's eyes are darting from her M1 to the abandoned machine gun in Gordon's foxhole.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, Grace, it's not your call.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the battle is getting closer and closer by the second and Grace has to decide whether her rifle is more effective rather than the machine gun against those tanks. Grace has a lot of confidence in her skills, but in this case she can't help but think that the machine gun seems the most sensible choice against that German barrier that's getting bigger and bigger in front of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, fuck it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace stands up suddenly and sprints faster forward towards Gordon's foxhole as much as her legs can carry her. Ignoring her name being shouted repeatedly, Grace throws herself into the hole, dumps her rifle somewhere and gets into position. Technically she has only used that type of weapon once before, but she has seen her mates do it so many times it only takes her two seconds to get the ball rolling. In the rush of action she didn't think she would need another pair of hands to pass the ammo, she will manage just fine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So she hopes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As if someone read her mind, she suddenly feels a presence next to her and her eyes meet Stevenson, a replacement from 2nd Platoon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll give you a hand!” he yells, setting himself in position and grabbing ammo from her left hand. Grace has never really spoken to him, but she remembers him from a few days back, when she joined Toye and Guarnere for lunch and he was there with them. He’s a nice kid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace feels odd using that machine gun. She's used to having her rifle secured under her arm, or a gun in her hand, those are very familiar feelings but above all it makes her feel safe. But the machine gun gives her a tremendous sense of power, far away from the safety of the rifle, and for some reason she doesn't like the effect it has on her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that's the job.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is war, she’s not supposed to like the effect it has on her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace doesn't realise when it happens or what happens, but at some point all around her there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>black</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She can't think, she can't move, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she can't see</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She can't tell if what she hears is the sound of silence or if it's a loud noise or if she just can't hear at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What happened?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She feels weird, she suddenly feels like a fire is burning her side but there’s no pain. Grace doesn't know what to do because she can't move, she can't breathe. And the seconds pass, minutes, maybe hours... she really doesn't know. It almost seems as if someone had snapped their fingers and deprived her of all sensations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart beats so slowly that she can hardly hear it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then all things suddenly start to go back in place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right in front of her there's Buck Compton's worried face; his lips are moving in slow motion, he's saying something to her, but she can't understand, all the sounds are muffled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace is sitting in the foxhole, her back leaning against the side. So it's not true that she couldn't move, she actually did it without even realising it. Did somebody move her?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How long has it been?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Buck is still talking and at one point he looks to his left, and out of the corner of her eye Grace catches a glimpse of what looks like a red carpet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it all suddenly comes together, as if someone had placed her under a strong waterfall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grace, for fuck's sake, can you hear me?” Buck is asking her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she wants to say, but she can't. Instead she lifts a hand to her head because she feels something thick dripping on her forehead and cheeks, but then her fingers find something else.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Grace tries, her voice broken, almost inaudible. “I... I have…” She turns her head and realises that what she thought was a red carpet, is in fact blood. It’s blood mixed with dirt, Grace can't distinguish what is what, and no trace of Stevenson. Except the one in Grace's hair, and a few pieces here and there. “I have a piece of Stevenson in my hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How could she even have thought that it was a carpet, there in the snow, with a battle going on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The battle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She remembers the Germans getting closer to their position and then… nothingness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grace,” Buck tries again, and she moves her gaze onto him, this time noticing a handful of soldiers behind him but she can’t quite catch who they are, they all look like black silhouettes. “Let’s get out of here, can you move?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace can feel her body now, but she feels numb in her limbs like when she stays in the same position for too long. With a shake of her head she says no, and in a few moments she finds herself lifted up, Buck carrying her for one, three, twenty meters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace's empty eyes are fixed on the white sky, the branches reach their limbs across the sky, breaking that almost dazzling white canvas.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly her feet touch the ground, and Grace discovers with delight that she can stand upright even though she feels so sluggish.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to my kid, why is she covered in blood? Is she hurt?” she hears a familiar voice coming closer, followed by a familiar face filling her visual field. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not physically, no,” Buck replies, his breath short. “I think she’s in shock, she won’t even react.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly, have you met her, Buck? Our Smarty doesn’t know the word shock,” Guarnere blurts out, resting a hand on Grace’s cheek. “Kid, you alright? What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Guarnere then stretches his hand and tries to clean her from all the pieces of Stevenson still on her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace’s stomach suddenly lurches at the sight of her friend's gesture, she feels vomit forcing its way out of her mouth so she just runs to the nearest tree and empties her messy stomach. Grace heaves and heaves until there's nothing but an empty pit in her gut. The sensation of nausea is still there even when it's over, just seeing bile dripping from her chin and still feeling the thick layer of blood and dirt and human parts on her head makes her want to vomit again but there's nothing left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace wipes the sick off her chin with the hem of the jacket. Even though it's freezing, her face is lathered in sweat, she feels small droplets descending on her cheeks, leaving a cold trace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns around and finds Guarnere and Buck talking to each other, Buck is probably explaining what happened. He was there, after all, he saw everything. Whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>means.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something suddenly flashes through Grace’s mind as she approaches the boys.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” Guarnere points a finger at her even before she could speak. “You’re coming with me to the CP and I don’t wanna hear no ‘buts’, understood?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Grace says, not at all surprised by the husky voice that came out her mouth. She doesn’t even bother to fight, and a few hours of rest wouldn't hurt her anyway. “But what about Smokey? And Luz? Hoobler? They were in my foxhole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace is a hundred percent sure their presence would make her feel a little better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re fine,” Buck confirms and her chest lightens a little. “They were worried sick about you when I left them, but I’ll make sure they know you’re… fine. The Germans gave us fucking hell this morning, I’ll give them that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t even know what happened during the battle: one moment she was there, shooting people, and the other she was pulled out of her foxhole all covered in Stevenson’s blood and no idea of what happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How long has passed? Half an hour? Two hours?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some time later Grace finds herself outside what they call the CP, but no one seems to be inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raises her head towards Guarnere to ask where Richard is, when he gives her a small smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s gonna be here soon,” he answers her silent question. “I believe he’s still out there. You’ll have to settle for my company for some time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your company is more than fine, Bill,” Grace says, trying to return the smile but failing miserably. “Does he know what happened? I mean, I don’t even know myself but you know what I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buck went to inform him after dragging you out of that shithole, not sure if someone informed Captain Winters before him. I’m sure if he could have been there, he would. If that’s what concerns you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no,” Grace shakes her head, a little bit embarrassed. “That’s not what I was thinking. Can I ask you a question? Promise to be honest with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I still… do I still have Stevenson in my hair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Guarnere focuses his gaze on her eyes a bit before moving them to her head. It's clear he's worried, but Grace will be fine. In a few hours she will look back and realise how foolish she was to react like this, after all she has been through in this war. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace sighs, realising that the last person who is going to believe that is herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” Guarnere responds, his hand moving strands of hair behind her ear. “There’s quite a lot of blood, but to be honest I can’t tell you for sure because it’s turned to the same colour as your hair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Splendid,” Grace answers. “Not bad for a Christmas present.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right?” he laughs softly. “Considering what a lucky bastard you are, I’d say it was indeed a Christmas present.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How come?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Guarnere glances at her, his forehead creased. “Krauts bombed your foxhole, Smarty, if you hadn’t noticed. Still you’re all in one piece while poor Stevenson is </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> pieces. Literally. And he was ten inches from you. I call that being a lucky bastard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace suddenly feels so stupid because thinking about it she indeed was lucky, at the end of the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can't believe I didn't even get a scratch,” she confesses. “And… for the first time, I can’t remember what happened. I mean, I imagined we got bombed, but I don’t remember it, Bill. Why can’t I remember? I was shooting with the machine gun, and the first thing I saw next was Buck’s face.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, about that…” Guarnere starts, grabbing her shoulder. “I’m pretty sure Winters will lecture you about this, but don’t ever do that again. You hear me? Running out of your foxhole like that, it’s not heroic, it’s stupid. You know who does that? Crazy people!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment Grace is undecided whether to look away or offer him a smile, his tone makes him look as if he's torn between being angry and worried. In the end, she just makes a face at him as an apology.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, it was reckless,” she sighs, sinking her face into her hands. “I just thought- it was my rifle or the machine gun against those fuckers, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, next time think of it as you against death.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He's absolutely right, and maybe Stevenson would still be alive if she had stayed quiet in her foxhole. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks. The chances that he would still be alive are high, after all he joined Grace just because he noticed she needed a hand... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it's war, there's no time to waste looking back, because that's not where you're going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, this time it seems like it was all for nothing. It’s not like she accidentally put at risk someone’s life for a great operation, it all happened because she was reckless. Stevenson made a choice too, though, just like her: he could’ve stayed in his foxhole instead of going to help her and now she would be the one in pieces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In life you have to make choices, and you're not going to be right every time.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace moves her gaze away from the tree she has been staring for the past ten minutes, and she’s a little bit surprised when her eyes set on Liebgott not far away from them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Captain Winters pulled him off the line and made him his runner for a few days,” Guarnere answers her silent question. How come he always has the answer for her silent questions? “Stress and all that. Hey, Joe!” Guarnere waves a hand towards him and then faces Grace. “I’m gonna see how he goes, you stay here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace would have liked to go say hello to Liebgott, but the last thing she needs right now is attention or an explanation regarding her not so healthy appearance. Suddenly she feels so heavy that she drops to her knees, her tiredness too strong to ignore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a hand, Grace grabs some snow and puts it on her forehead. She still feels like her face is on fire, and the moment the snow makes contact with her skin she feels a sort of relief. Without thinking twice, she cups her hands to grab more snow and shoves it on her head, starting to rub it in her hair. It's water, after all, she will be able to get rid of a little of the dried blood, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace stares at her hands stained with blood and snow, a slight burn starts to rise in her throat. She then sinks her hands into the snow again, this time taking some more, hoping all of the blood will finally go away. She feels like a complete fool, but she doesn't really care.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That's how Richard finds her when he shows up at the CP shortly after. Grace initially can’t read his emotions; he approaches at a brisk pace, his brow furrowed and he analyses her from head to toe as if he expects her to explode at any moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard drops himself next to her and hugs her tight. Grace tries to return the hug, but she feels so weak that she can barely manage to put her arms around his friend's neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard breaks the hug, his hands still on her shoulders as he tries to understand Grace’s status.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” he asks then, looking at her head. She’s probably looking funny with all that snow in her hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the blood,” Grace says, nodding. “I couldn’t stand it anymore, I was hoping the snow would help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a force she didn't think possible, Richard pulls her off the ground and tries to wipe her face a little; who knows what horrible look she must have in this very moment, Grace would probably get scared in front of a mirror.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still looking better than Stevenson, though.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You disobeyed a goddamn order, Grace, you could’ve been killed for that,” he scolds her, his voice sounding horrible in Grace’s ears. “I’m not gonna have you do stupid things like that again, you hear me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I’m sorry, I thought I was doing the right thing,” she explains, even though she knows she’s the one in the wrong. “I really am sorry, Rich, that won’t happen again. I promise. I’ll try and take out the word reckless from my dictionary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You better,” Richard points a finger at her. “You had me so worried I forgot how to get mad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You never knew how to get mad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Buck said you couldn’t even talk, yet here you are, making fun of me,” he says. “I’m glad to see you’re okay at least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not okay, Rich. Not one bit, but I’m trying not to think about how I felt just an hour ago,” Grace explains calmly. “Are the men okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard nods. “Come on, let’s go get you something to eat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace agrees. She's not hungry at all, but some hot soup certainly wouldn't hurt her after her stomach has been completely emptied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of the corner of her eye she sees Guarnere approaching. He had long since finished talking to Liebgott, but Grace noticed that he had remained aloof, leaving her and Richard to their conversation. Guarnere rests a hand on her back and the three of them make their way to the mess.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Grace is a bit surprised to see Colonel Sink approaching with his jeep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She brings a spoonful of soup to her mouth, but it's so hard to eat with her stomach still in turmoil. Beside her, Luz continues to throw her concerned looks; every so often she catches him looking at her and each time he pretends to look a little over her shoulder, or pretends to look for someone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where did Muck go?” he asks just now when she finds him staring at her for the umptienth time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s right next to you in the exact spot he’s been for the past half an hour,” Grace shakes her head, hitting his nose lightly with the spoon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they arrived at the mess about twenty minutes prior, some of the boys were already there and jumped on Grace as soon as they spotted her. Muck squeezed her so tight she almost felt her limbs go numb once again. Martin and Bull were also there, and she was under the impression that both of them wanted to scold her, although they didn’t say anything. They were just happy that Grace was still alive. The only person who apparently was impressed by Grace’s stupid attempt to get herself killed was More; he approached her with a smile and said, “Wow, Smarty, that was badass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’t badass, it was fucking dumb,” Luz replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still, I saw her reach that foxhole in no time at all and start shooting,” More shrugs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucky you you didn’t see that fucking foxhole exploding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Luz was trying very hard to be angry with her, for the risk she had taken, but he wasn't succeeding very well. The angry tone was there and all, but the constant glances and the gentle, subtle touches on her arm said otherwise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there was Moe Alley, who said that he would have done the same thing and for some reason that made Grace feel a tiny bit better and less dumb.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re having a Christmas dinner of turkey and hooch back at the Division CP.” Sink’s voice startles her from her thoughts as he approaches Richard right next to them. “Damned if I don’t like Joe Domingus’ rancid ass beans better.” Grace smirks. “Hello, Easy Company.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, sir,” they all answer in chorus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace sees him discussing something with Richard, before addressing the men again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Men… General McAuliffe wishes us all a Merry Christmas,” Sink announces and Grace can’t help but roll her eyes. Then she sees him unfold a letter and start reading. “‘What’s merry about all this, you ask? Just this: we’ve been stopped cold everything that’s been thrown at us. From the north, east, south and west. Two days ago, the German commander demanded our honorable surrender to save the U.S.A. encircled troops from total annihilation. The German commander received the following reply. ‘To the German commander: </span>
  <em>
    <span>nuts!’</span>
  </em>
  <span>” All the men laugh at that, and Grace follows suit because it’s a hell of an answer. “‘We’re giving our country and loved ones a worthy Christmas present, and being privileged to take part in this gallant feat of arms, we are truly making for ourselves a Merry Christmas!’” Sink folds the letter again and shoves it into his pocket. “Merry Christmas to y’all and God bless you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nuts, sir!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nuts!” the men exclaim at the colonel as he heads back to the jeep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, that was entertaining. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess the most worthy Christmas present my loved ones would dream of would be me being finally home, though,” Muck comments and Grace can't help but notice such an unusual note of sadness in his voice. She's sure that her friend had initially meant it as a joke, but she knows him too well and she can catch any nuance in his voice and in his features. “But I guess fighting for our country works as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I need to remind you you have loved ones here, too?” Grace says, fluttering her eyelashes at him in a playful way. “Meaning us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Muck smiles, but he doesn’t say anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and that we actually get to have you for Christmas,” Luz adds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Precisely,” Grace continues. “I don’t even remember where I spent Christmas Day last year, that means I was probably in some hideout somewhere dangerous. At least now we have each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s cute, but I’m telling you,” Luz threatens her with a finger, but Grace notices the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Another night with y’all snoring and I’m gonna evict you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Grace manages to get some sleep over the afternoon. Needless to say, it's been one of her most disturbed sleeps for some time; the images of the morning etched in her mind, Stevenson's proud expression the moment he followed her into the foxhole will remain engraved in her mind for a while. Every time Grace will close her eyes, she’ll see his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that's not the only thing that really troubles her. What if it wasn't Stevenson, but Luz? What if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> followed her and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> who exploded? Grace is very sorry for Stevenson and his death will haunt her, but she wouldn’t be able to handle losing Luz or Muck or Malarkey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Grace’s mind is super talented at imagining the absolute worst.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just after dinner, Roe comes to Grace, who has just woken up for the seventh time in two hours. He's outraged that he found out by accident about what happened, he's angry that no one sent Spina to check if Grace was okay - since he, Roe, had to head out to Bastogne with Gordon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Honestly, Grace has been too worried about other things to think about having any injuries, such as diving back into the snow to get rid of all the blood and any human debris. It doesn't matter that with her head completely wet plus the bitter cold she had a massive headache soon after.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>According to Roe's quick medical check, Grace doesn't even have a scratch, as she had already suspected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Next time you need to have a medic checking on you right away, Grace,” Roe scolds her and Grace is so tired of having people scolding her that day. “When in shock or with too much adrenaline, the perception of pain is a little different, sometimes nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope there won’t be a next time, doc,” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope so too, but just in case…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, gotcha.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roe gives her a faint smile, then hands her a couple of pills. “Take one now and another one during the night. If there’s something, you come to me, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace nods. “What about Smokey? Is he gonna be altright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roe’s mouth sets in a hard line. “I don’t know. He’s paralysed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Paralysed?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she snaps, worried. “How… is there something they can do for him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Grace. It could be temporary, it could be forever. Only time will tell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roe leaves as he came.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First Sisk, now Gordon... Grace sighs, crouching against the foxhole side again. Luz is next to her and he’s pretending to sleep. Grace suspects that he got quite a fright that morning, thinking he lost her and he doesn't know how to behave around her, also because her mood had been unstable throughout the day, but he couldn’t blame her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace feels like stretching her legs with a small walk, but at the same time she's a little fearful of leaving her post. The internal battle with herself lasts a couple of minutes, but in the end she decides to take a short walk around the area and then come back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She kicks Luz in the boot. “Luz, I’m gonna go take a piss.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure?” he says right away, just proving to her he wasn’t asleep after all. Grace gives him the eye, even though Luz can’t really see her because of the dark, but he knows her. “Okay, okay, be quick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace stands up and realises she can't even feel her buttocks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence that reigns that evening is truly disturbing, but as she walks around the perimeter she feels like light music traveling through the air. It takes her a few seconds to realise that, on the other side of the field, the Germans are singing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Silent Night.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A Christmas song should warm her heart a little, but instead it makes her even more uneasy than she thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From a distance she sees a slight flash in the trees, like a flame, as if someone had started a fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, no.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That's a real fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the rifle tight in her hand, she approaches trying to make as little noise as possible, only to realise that it's only Welsh and Peacock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry?” Grace tries feebly. Peacock looks up at her, but Welsh just stays quiet. She crouches down next to Welsh, the warmth of the fire reaches her skin and it’s the most wonderful sensation she’s had in weeks. “This is dangerous.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We just started it,” Peacock says, his voice broken by the cold. “Just a few minutes, then we’ll put it out. Take advantage of it while you can, Whitehead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace hasn’t seen Welsh in days, but he seems quite shaken which is so strange. Not really, given that situation they’re in, but she’s used to his bright smile and his awful puns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With her super hearing, Grace hears someone approaching and after a moment Richard appears between the two lieutenants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry,” he says, then looks down at Grace. “Fire’s not a good idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a couple of minutes,” Welsh replies with chattering teeth. “We’re in a dell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Richard bends down, his eyes can’t leave his friend for a second. “A dell?” he asks. “Like, where fairies and gnomes live?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grace can barely hold back a laugh, but she tries hard not to let any unnecessary noises come out of her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear I thought I could smell a fire,” Nixon’s voice comes next and Grace is startled because she hadn’t heard him approaching. Too busy imagining little fairies and gnomes dancing happily around the fire. When Nixon comes closer, his face is illuminated by the fire and she can see his surprise. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>smell a fire. Are you out of your mind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, we’re in a dell,” Grace and Richard say simultaneously, and she can’t help but smile at that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smile doesn't last long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A sudden whistle breaks through the air and then a deafening, familiar, horrible noise, but fortunately distant. Grace jumps to her feet and instinctively throws herself towards Richard, almost stepping on the fire; luckily the explosion was far away, but she covers her ears anyway and doesn't even have time to think about what to do as another explosion rumbles in the forest, this time close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Too close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No... Stop...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A scream, and Grace wants to scream too because she's so tired. She turns her head to see her friend Harry Welsh wriggle on the ground, screaming like a madman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fire is out and she can't quite tell where he got hit, but the way he moves it seems to be his leg. Grace sees Richard running towards him to help him and she just stands there, frozen in front of yet another friend that the war is taking away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>» info «</p>
<p>- Nancy Wake did have a maid when she lived in Paris! If I remember correctly her name was Isabelle? Anyway, I was looking up for some information to give you, but sadly I can't find anything and I don't remember where I read it ops!<br/>- Stevenson is a made up character. I just needed someone to die, but obviously I wasn't going to kill one of the real boys so I invented him.<br/>- It's true that Liebgott was taken off the line and made a CP runner for Winters! He stayed with him for some time, then he returned to the line but his stress continued and he was sent to Division HQ Intelligence and reunited with Easy in Noville.</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>Hello folks! I hope you liked this chapter :) I wanted to write the scene in the foxhole since basically August lol and it's kind of how I imagined it. If you have any question please don't be shy, I love answering! You can also find me on Tumblr, I'm <b>wecomrades</b> there too!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. In Case You Don't Live Forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you Angie for your help and support! And I don't know if you'll ever read this, but thank you Val for your help with that French bit :)<br/>HERE IT IS. The chapter you've been all waiting for :D at least I hope, haha! The title is a song by Ben Platt, which I discovered the other day and I basically listened to it on repeat while writing certain scenes, so I thought it would be perfect as a chapter title.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's Christmas Day, but all around the atmosphere is anything but festive. For obvious reasons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace gets in line for lunch, the mess kit in her cold, trembling hands, and the same old tired look plastered on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same people in line, the same people gathered together, the same people serving the same food. The same trees, the same snow, the same fatigue. Wake up, eat, drink, strive to keep warm so as not to freeze to death, get shelled by German artillery, patrol, eat, drink, patrol, warm up, artillery again, sleep, repeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She isn't used to complaining that much, but lately she can't help but wonder how long they will be forced to hold their position in that damned forest. Wonder how much longer will they have to tolerate cold and snow, the constant risk of death, the utter weariness. Wonder how much longer she will have to endure having to see her friends being taken away, wonder if she will have a chance to see them again one day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sisk, Gordon, and now Welsh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>According to Roe, who took Welsh to the temporary hospital in Bastogne the night before, the lieutenant will be evacuated to England and he will be fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a lovely Christmas present. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if the previous day hadn't been turbulent enough for Grace, the night was no less so: huddled in her icy foxhole, her whole body trembling, afraid that Roe would come with bad news. But when Roe came, luckily the news wasn't all that bad. And Grace was finally able to breathe again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace sighs, and suddenly she remembers one of the Maquis’ kids, the same one that taught her how to play soccer - Julién. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On her first mission for the French Resistance, Grace had to accept the fact that whether you were ten or fifty made no difference to them. So when the men were assigned to her for the mission, he was among them too, and proved himself braver than most adults. Grace never understood if those children were aware of the worldwide situation and were extremely courageous, or if they didn't fully understand the heaviness of the circumstances and just followed what the adults did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Julién was always so calm and poised and one day Grace couldn't hold back her curiosity anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re aware we’re going to blow up a bridge, kid?” she had asked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, mademoiselle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re aware that the chances of SS being there are high?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, mademoiselle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that we might not make it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, mademoiselle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever shot a gun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, mademoiselle,” he had said firmly, staring at her with his big, brown eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how on earth are you so damn calm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My </span>
  <em>
    <span>maman </span>
  </em>
  <span>taught me,” Julién had said proudly. “And I can teach </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, mademoiselle. You must think of a very happy memory, one that’s powerful as the sun. One that can bring light even when it’s very dark outside and inside. If you think about that memory whenever you’re in the darkest of places, it’ll help you </span>
  <em>
    <span>rester en vie</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rester en vie?” Grace had asked, raising a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At SOE she was taught calm and discipline, and certainly not using happy memories to stay alive. When danger comes close you need to think fast, you don’t have time to think of Sunday’s tea or whatever. But Julién’s advice helped her when she was imprisoned by the Gestapo, because she had so much time to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So now, almost four years later and with way too much time to think, Grace decides to finally take that ten year old kid’s goddamn life lesson and try and </span>
  <em>
    <span>reste en vie</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finds herself a little surprised - but not too much - by the fact that the first happy memory that comes to mind belongs to last summer. No Henri, no romantic dinners or peaceful Sundays at home. Grace’s mind travels to that so far away day in July: it wasn't even sunny, but she felt glowing, she felt happy. It was shortly after a morning of training, Luz had just made a terrible joke about Dukeman's new haircut, literally making both Muck and Malarkey roll on the floor with laughter. Consequently Grace had made a terrible joke about Malarkey's laugh and they went on and on like that for hours. Until at some point Muck had grabbed her arm gently and told her, "Tonight when I pray before going to sleep, I will thank the Lord for sending you to us." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Grace had known what that meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something in the way they acted around her, a warmth, a genuineness, a softness of spirit she just couldn't pass up. The more time she spent with them, the more her spirit lifted. Regardless of outward appearances and the emotional wall in her head, they were the only ones her heart has let in for so long. They were the new friends she'd needed for so long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That day the sun wasn't out, but it was inside her instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace takes one, two, three seconds to realise that her happy memory is not a specific moment, it’s not a specific day: it’s the only thought of her friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She decides no more complaining from now on, no more pining, just focusing on the great people she was surrounded by. She would think of happy moments they spent together, she would think of what memories they would create after the war - hoping they would be given a chance to actually do that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles to herself, noticing how just thinking of their names alters her mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace glances up and realises it’s almost her turn. She had been walking with her head low, deep in thoughts, following the boots of the man in front of her only to realise it was Cobb. As if he heard her thinking his name, he turns around, giving her a small smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s different than from before Bastogne. He has a rough beard, his eyes don’t seem to be arrogant anymore, and he looks tired. He must think the same thing of her, probably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, everyone is different than they were before Bastogne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Cobb,” Grace says, returning the smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he says, his look is slightly suspicious and she can’t blame him, Grace never spoke to him voluntarily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strong smell of soup tickles her nostrils.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad they don’t have sardines, eh?” she comments, trying to look funny but failing spectacularly because he turns around with huge eyes. She didn't mean it as a joke, honestly it was the first thing that came to mind. She just wanted to try to make a little conversation, perhaps subtly trying to be forgiven for that day in Mourmelon le Grand, when she had made him look like a fool in front of everyone. And for shooting at him, mostly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cobb coughs, then gives her another shy smile. “Yeah, well, you don’t like them anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's probably just happening in her head, but Grace hopes she hasn't made him somehow sadder than he was before. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good job, Grace.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Also, when did she become so understanding?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cobb takes his ration of soup and walks away, mumbling a “see you around” before disappearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that was… intense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, Grace reaches her friends, the mess kit in her hands carries less soup than she expected. She sits down on a log near Penkala, a hungry rumbling coming from her belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did Cobb want?” Penkala asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, we just said hi to each other,” Grace cuts him off, and she can’t help but feel a bit saddened by the very short conversation she just had with Cobb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to Penkala, Luz is finishing up his lunch, licking the edge of the bowl like he always does. Grace tries to hold back a smirk as she brings a spoonful of soup to her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, am I hallucinating or...” Muck huffs, motioning to a spot behind Grace’s back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns around to see Dike walking with Lipton; the latter is telling him something they can’t quite catch, and Dike has his usual look plastered on his face, the look of someone who doesn’t know where he is. The look he’s been showing off since he got the position in Easy Company. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, this is the first time Grace sees him since they entered that stupid Belgian forest.</span>
</p><p><span>“Alice,” Penkala comments and Grace almost chokes on her soup. She remembers saying something about him living in Wonderland once, and Penkala had said that he was going to call him Alice</span> <span>until the end of the war.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Oh god, he doesn’t even have his weapon on him,” Luz comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it need it for?” Grace spits, returning to her unsatisfying lunch. “No weapons or aid kits in Wonderland. That’s the kingdom’s rule.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Penkala giggles next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace can see Luz is about to say something, when their peace is abruptly interrupted by Malarkey, who's slinging himself towards them and almost stumbles on Heffron's helmet, who had placed it temporarily on the ground next to him. Malarkey lunges next to Muck, out of breath and looking haggard to say the least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gu-ys,” he breathes, resting an elbow on Muck’s shoulder. “I’m coming with news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought that was Vest’s job,” Muck mocks him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did the Germans miraculously freeze to death during the night?” Luz asks, hopeful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I wish,” Malarkey shakes his head. “Glenn Miller is dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Grace and Penkala shout in unison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some guy just told me,” he explains, still out of breath from the run. “About ten days ago. He was flying to Paris and disappeared, no one has seen him since. I can’t believe this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace can't believe it either. That man and his music did more for her than her very own family, and now the war had taken him too. Grace would never hear a new Glenn Miller song again because Glenn Miller no longer existed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows that both Muck and Malarkey are passionate about his music too, they even went to the concert together last summer, and she knows that right now they're feeling the same pain she's feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay like that for some time, chatting, talking about Miller and music and a lot of stuff, trying to cheer themselves up with all they have. They also start singing some of his songs, which after a while they turn them into Christmas songs because yeah, it’s still Christmas after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace takes her helmet off, feeling the cold air biting angrily at her ears. She runs a hand through her frizzy and dirty hair, moving the unruly locks away from her forehead; burying her head in the snow the day before had worked enough in getting the dirt and blood off of it, but the thought of being so dirty and stinky still makes her shiver.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How can they even be close to her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace adjusts the low bun without putting in much effort before wearing the helmet again, when she notices that Luz is staring. She gives him a wink, which he responds with a smile. He always responds with soft smiles and gentle touches and Grace asks herself </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>he is so nice to her. Sometimes when they're in their foxhole, Luz presses gentle kisses on her forehead or on her shoulders, when he thinks she’s asleep. But Grace is almost never asleep these days, she just pretends she is because sometimes she doesn’t even have the strength to talk to her friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Luz is still staring at her, so she looks away, a little bit embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus Christ, what happened to me? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grace thinks, rolling her eyes at herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where did the Grace who used to be the number one flirt go?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace pulls out the pack of cigarettes, puts one between her lips, lights the end and sucks a grateful drag as the hot smoke warms her cold chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember the feeling of a hot shower?” she asks no one in particular, her foot playing with some snow. “Because I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither do I,” Malarkey confesses, sniffling. “And to think that in Normandy we went on more than twenty days without showering and in Holland even more than that. And now we’ve been here for ten days and it feels way worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s fucking freezing,” Luz replies, hiding his chin into the collar of his jacket. “And until yesterday we had little food, summer clothes, and everyday looks and feels the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, each day seems to last forever,” Penkala steps in. “Do we still have twenty-four hours a day? Because it feels more like fifty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace smiles feebly, the cigarette still hanging between her lips. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Happy memories, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Julién’s voice says inside her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Happy memories</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, stop your whiny asses,” she says, throwing a snowball at Luz. “We might stay here for a while, so there’s no point in complaining.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and it’s my birthday soon, so start thinking of a present instead of your frozen dicks,” Muck proclaims, making everybody laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a moron, your birthday is in over a month!” Penkala throws some snow at him. “I’m sure we’ll be able to get you some pine cones or the shell of a Kraut bullet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Penky is right,” Grace states, shrugging. “It’s either that or a piece of bark. Or I could give you a kiss on the cheek, if you feel brave enough to let my stinky self get close to your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys let out a few chuckles, and Muck actually wiggles his eyebrows at her which she responds to with an exaggerated wink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the corner of the eye she sees Luz standing up. “Well, guys, I’m heading home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t be like that! We were joking,” Muck says, spreading his arm as an invitation to stay with them a little longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz gives him the eye. “What’s that supposed to mean, I know you were just being idiots. What’s new. I’m just tired and want some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace feels her face scrunching up as she looks at Luz taking his bag with the radio and fixing it on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then stop acting like a jealous husband and stay here with us!” Malarkey protests. “No one will kiss anyone, right, Skip?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I missing something here?” Grace interrupts, sincerely curious by her friends’ behaviour. First, Luz acting strange and it’s always kind of alarming when he does that. Then Malarkey saying those things, like ‘jealous husband’ and ‘no one will kiss anyone’ as if they were in kindergarten… It's not the first time she becomes estranged in a conversation about herself, and she usually always ignores it for the sake of it, but now Malarkey is looking at her as if he had just been caught stealing candy and Luz has his eyes bulging out. He doesn't seem angry or annoyed, more than anything else in his eyes Grace reads a mix of tiredness and... concern? Worry?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace smiles softly at him, as if to tell him that whatever is going on, it’s okay. But this time around he doesn’t respond with a smile or a smirk, he just stares at her with a blank face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys?” she tries again when no one bothers to answer her the first time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not our place to say, really,” Muck mumbles, looking down at his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet you’ve said enough,” Luz comments. “Forget it, Grace. Nothing to worry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, totally nothing you should know,” Penkala says and then slaps a hand onto his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for your help, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alex,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luz blurts out and turns around, walking away from them. Walking away from Grace, leaving her in a state of confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The muscles in her face are sore from how tight they are, and she moves her eyes from Muck to Malarkey to Penkala because she earned the right to know what's going on and she doesn't like feeling like a stranger among her own friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I were you, I’d go after him,” Muck says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't need him to suggest the obvious, of course she was going to run after him because Luz is acting weird - and they are too - and he seemed quite pissed off. Grace puts out her cigarette on the snow, picks up her bowl from the ground and shoves it casually into her bag. She leaps over Penkala's legs and heads quickly to the point where Luz disappeared a few seconds earlier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she walks away, she swears she heard Malarkey say, "We screwed up big this time, guys."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace quickens her pace and at some point she starts running, she doesn't understand how he managed to get so far away so quickly. Then she sees his silhouette stand out in the fog.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luz!” she calls him, ignoring Shifty and Popeye calling for her. “Hey, Luz! For chrissake, stop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz stops eventually. He turns to her, the bag with the radio slightly crooked on his shoulder and a resigned look on his face. Maybe he expected her to follow him, but from his expression Grace can't tell if he’s glad or terrified.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Grace catches her breath as she gets closer to him. “What was that back there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to be more specific, lady,” he tries a smirk and Grace’s heart leaps at the nickname. He used to call her that when they first met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace raises a brow. “You know what I mean. You’ve been acting strange lately, and now they make jokes about you being a jealous husband and I think I should know what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For the love of God, Grace,” Luz laughs a little, his eyes lowering to his boots, “you're a freaking </span>
  <em>
    <span>spy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I thought you’d sense these things. You should've known for awhile what's going on, isn't it your job to study people, analyse situations and the like? Honestly I thought you knew and just ignored it. I don’t know which is worst, but oh well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace feels a little bit taken aback by that statement, it’s something she would have never expected Luz would say to her. And the tone he’s using is unusual for him, he almost seems disappointed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>In her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Grace doesn’t know if she can handle a disappointed Luz because even just the thought of it breaks her heart in thousands of pieces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you being so bitter to me?” Grace asks feebly, trying not to let the tension leak through her voice. “If it’s something I’ve done or said, I’m sorry, I never meant to disrespect you. We can discuss it. You can tell me anything, you know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done nothing wrong, Grace,” he sighs. He must have realised he used a more contemptuous tone than he intended, because he suddenly softens. “I’m sorry if I came out rude, it wasn’t my intention. I’m just </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>tired and lately I feel so hopeless about this fucking war, and literally everything else. I’m sorry if I take it on you somehow, you already have your burdens to carry. I don’t want you to have mine too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what friends are for, man. Carrying each other’s burdens,” Grace says, squeezing his arm a little. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know. You have us. You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And I’ll always be here for you - unless Krauts kill me first. So if there’s anything I can do to help you feel better, please talk to me. I know I’m not the most open person, but I’m working on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. Grace's skin tingles when they lock eyes and her heart beats erratically in her chest so hard that she feels as if she would burst. Looking into Luz's eyes feels like looking into the sun for too long - it almost burns, but the burning sensation is satisfying. There are butterflies - no, not butterflies, an entire zoo - in her chest, but it feels good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels good, and it’s not the first time this happened with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finally has the guts to admit to herself what she knew all along, but was too afraid to admit it: she likes him. A lot. And she often wonders if they were in different circumstances, if they weren't submerged in snow and enemy artillery, if there was no war... would it be any different? Grace will never be able to fully open up to someone in wartime, she already made that mistake. The said mistake brought her the love of her life, but it also brought her death and suffering and she wouldn't be able to live though that all over again. Because the level of fear will always be higher than anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fear of losing someone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I have you,” Luz starts, taking a deep breath and never taking his eyes off her. “But I reached a point where that’s not enough. I tried, Grace, I swear I did. And it worked for some time. But then you gave me signs and then withdrew, and I don’t really know how to interpret that anymore. And it’s driving me crazy. I know it’s war and all, and war can command life or death, but not the heart. Not mine, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure I’m following you,” Grace says and okay she knows she’s quite thick when it comes to opening up, she’s not used to it, so perhaps it’s all her fault. “You’re saying you have me, but that’s not enough…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wanted to know how I feel,” Luz says softly, as if he’s talking to a child. “I feel like a child being thrown into the air by his father, and sometimes he manages to catch me, but then he misses. You're involuntarily the father. You take me, then you drop me, and I know you don't do it on purpose but I don't know how long I'll be able to still accept it. Fuck, probably forever, but that's not the point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't know if she’s more confused by what's going on inside her or what Luz is telling her. And in all of this she feels guilty because it was she who told him that she could help him, but she's not doing a great job as a listener. Where has her spy soul gone? After all the years' work it's as if someone had hit her on the head and suddenly it all disappeared. For years she has been doing this job, analysing faces and features, tones of voice, backgrounds, and now she can't even understand what the fuck her best friend is saying to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I’m not sure what you’re accusing me of. I thought you liked me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz throws his hands in the air, almost exasperated. “Shit, Grace, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>you! Jesus Christ, you know what I like? I like bread, I like wine, I like taking walks in the small park near my house on Sunday mornings. I like chatting with my mom, with my siblings, I like going out with my friends. And okay, even if they're absolute assholes, I also like the gang of jerks that’s Easy Company. But with you it's different, you've always been different and I know I’m stalling, because behind this clown mask I'm wearing, I'm actually frightened. And I don't really know other metaphors to temporise so I’m just going to say that I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you explaining things to me like I’m fucking five years old?” Grace begins. She doesn’t mean to sound rude or annoyed, but sometimes things don’t come out as she first wanted them to. And she figures she kind of sounds like a five year old, but still. “I know you love me, we’ve been hanging on each other since Normandy, I know you care about me. I love you too and I'm sorry that I often take it for granted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, listen,” Luz gets closer to her, “either I’m not good with this or you aren’t, or maybe both. Surely both. I haven’t read many romantic novels in my life, so I’m trying to explain myself with my own words. I know I’m gonna regret saying this, but I don’t love you as I’d love a friend or a sister, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>in love with you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I love you like you loved Henri and like Henri loved you. I keep falling in love with you over and over and each time is harder than the last. Every time the feeling gets deeper, more complete, more bewitching. There isn't a thing I wouldn't do to keep you safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace's brain stutters for a moment and her eyes take in more light than expected, and every part of her feels paused while her thoughts try to catch up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems like words left Grace. She stares into those bright brown eyes burning with light, with hope, and her heart falls silent. Grace can’t bring her lips to move, as if stuck underwater everything is slow and warbled as he keeps staring at her, waiting.  But her mind is blank. Luz's eyes desperately search for something in hers, whatever answer she's willing to give but her head is so chaotic she can't even put two words together.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George Luz is in love with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How is it possible that she hasn't ever noticed? Either she's stupid or he was good at hiding his feelings from her. Maybe both options are true, but the fact is that she had completely closed the doors to love after Henri's death, so she never cared about those feelings. Or those of others towards her, as in this case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But above all she never thought that anyone could fall in love with </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grace, so cold and distant and cynical until recently... especially a person like Luz, always with a joyful and playful spirit. She would never have thought that history would repeat itself, that someone like him would fall in love with someone like her. As it happened with Henri all those years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Grace never thought she'd be here, in a Belgian forest during a world war, reciprocating those same feelings. Because there's no point in denying it now, but she has feelings for Luz that are not comparable to others. She’s always asked herself what’s different about them, but she’s quite sure she got her answer just now. The love she feels for Muck and Malarkey and Richard is strong and deep and sincere, but it's the same love she would feel for a brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are indeed the brothers she's never had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she feels about Luz is different, it has always been different in a way, but she has never given it particular weight because the truth is that with the war going on it's not really the right time to fall in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe it's the other way around, and it’s exactly because of a war going on that’s the right time to do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now or never.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace searches her mind for something reasonable to say, but it's still empty, as if she's waiting for someone to fill in the blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ironically, she thinks being face to face with a Nazi would be less stressful than having this conversation with Luz right now. She mentally slaps herself for only thinking about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Life seems to make no sense these days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she speaks her voice trails slowly, like her words are unwilling to take flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, George…” she says, realising it’s the first time in months she’s called him by his name. “Since when? All this time I thought I was being a decent friend and now turns out I was actually being the worst of all. I should’ve known, I should’ve realised… I feel such a fool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault,” he explains, clearly relieved that Grace was finally speaking. “I've kept my feelings for you contained as long as I could. Honest love shouldn't be contained. I wanted to open up and tell you how I felt so many times, Grace, but I always chickened out. I didn’t want things between us to get weird, because I liked what we have. I still like it. The others kept harassing me to tell you, because there might not be many opportunities as we get shelled three times a day and might die any moment. So, sometimes I thought they were right, but sometimes I thought what’s the point in confessing my feelings if tomorrow you or me could die? And the thought of love in this fucking mess seems so inappropriate, but there’s no way to fight it. Not for me. Believe me, I tried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since when?” Grace repeats, her eyes can’t seem to leave his face, studying every movement of his face. “Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since when you came out of that bush, I guess,” Luz shrugs, ignoring Grace’s crazed look. “I just fancied you at first. But then… I don’t know, it might’ve been back in Carentan, after that battle, you know. You were there, sitting on the ground, looking at me like a lost puppy. And you asked me how bad were you stinking, I mean, how odd is that? I thought that you were odd and special and I- I don’t know. It all happened so fast. I didn’t even know if it was love because I’ve never been in love my whole life. But I’ve never felt something this deep before, so beautiful and painful at the same time… And I remember once you were talking about love, and I told you that you made it sound just like that. Beautiful and painful. And you were absolutely right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace’s eyes widens. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Since Normandy?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I said, it’s not something I can properly control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, what about Marie?” Grace queries, and she’s aware she’s asking so many questions but she really doesn’t know what else to say. It seems as if the mechanism in her brain has rusted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me about her the other day,” Grace lifts a brow. “The girl you love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as she speaks, she realises that perhaps there never was any Marie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz rolls his eyes, attempting a smile. “There’s no Marie, silly,” he says, confirming her suspicions. “I made her up. I mean, I didn’t make it all up, I was not so subtly talking about you. It’s always been you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s always been you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grace wants to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen,” Luz continues, and for a moment looks like he wants to hold her hands, but then he changes his mind at the last moment and intertwines his own fingers. “I know you love me, in your own way, and you have feelings hidden inside too. It seems like it isn't any easier for you to express yourself to me, than for me to express myself to you. I just- I just want to say that’s okay if you don’t feel for me the same way I feel for you. I can tell you’re a bit shaken by this whole thing, so please don’t feel forced to say anything. I get it, I’ll survive. I just hope this won’t ruin our friendship, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>I won’t survive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace absolutely has to restart the neurons in her brain so she can give Luz a worthy answer, because he doesn't deserve her silence and her endless useless questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When Henri died I shut myself completely to other possibilities of love. Of loving again. Especially with a worldwide war going on and so much pain, I just couldn’t let myself be distracted or abandoned once again. I told you so many times that you guys managed to change me somehow, that I finally was able to get rid of that wall that I thought was protecting me. That wall brought me nothing that wasn't necessary for the purposes of war and survival. But at the same time it didn't let anything in as well, so for a long time I've been a stranger to any kind of feeling. And for this I am sorry, because I'm firmly convinced that it's for this reason that I couldn't understand you sooner. I'm sorry, really, I never meant to hurt you or be indifferent to you. But as that wall crumbled, I realised that you of all people have carved out some kind of door in it. I don't know how, I don't know when, but you could walk in and out of that wall as you pleased. And it took me a long time to learn to read my feelings again, but in the end I made it and I realised I could never go through a life without you. Just seeing your smiling face or hearing your heart-melting voice brightens up my worst days and makes them more than just bearable. Just having a hug from you makes me feel warm inside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace takes one, two, three breaths before continuing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes I can see the light at the end of this tunnel of horrors, you know. The times I manage to do that are very rare, but every single time you're there waiting for me. When I think about the future, I think about you. But this happens so little that I can count it on the fingers of one hand. I've always faced this war thinking that I'd never see the end of it, and it's something that has never stopped me. But even now that I wish I had the chance to rebuild my life someday, it's so hard just to think about it. And that's why I can't afford to let myself go, now. I can't do it. Just the thought of letting go completely and then risking seeing you die the next day, I can't tolerate it. I can't. I won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz is looking at her a little dazed, as if he's trying to realise the fact that Grace, in her twisted way, is telling him that she loves him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I didn’t expect that,” he coughs, resting his gaze on his feet before meeting her eyes again. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me, but I think I made myself clear that I’d do anything for you. So, whatever it is, it’s fine by me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm not asking you anything, I'm just telling you that I'm not ready at the moment. I'd ask you to wait for me, but I can't ask that of you because I don't know what kind of person I will be once this is all over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz’s forehead furrows. “I don’t understand, what do you want me to do? I can’t just snap my fingers and fall out of love, can I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Grace almost shouts. “I never implied… that’s a horrible thing so say, I’d never suggest that to anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I just- if this is about Henri… Grace, I don’t expect you to forget about Henri and what you’ve been through together. Hell, I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>person. I respect that, and even if I’ve never met the man, I respect him too because he seems like a guy who treated you good just like you deserve. I just wish there’ll be a tiny spot for me in that heart of yours. I don’t mean to replace him or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Luz, this has nothing to do with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure? You don’t have to lie to me, you know that.” Grace rifles through the front pocket of her jacket, ignoring his last sentence on purpose. “I know the way you feel about him, I know it’s not something you can simply get over with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace stretches her arm and gives him a crumpled, wet piece of paper. It's the first time she takes it out since she wrote it what it feels like a lifetime ago, and she gulps the moment she sees it's a little bloodied too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz takes it, he doesn’t seem bothered by neither the dirt or the blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry it has blood on it,” she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You- did you write me a letter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not for you,” Grace sighs, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Do you remember the other day when you asked me to talk about Henri? When I showed you the picture?” Luz nods. “Well, that conversation turned out to be rather illuminating, and I wrote that as soon as you left. It’s a… It’s hard to explain, but you’ll understand once you’ll read it. Please, don’t do it now because I might look tough but I’m actually very embarrassed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz laughs a little, making her heart skip a beat. He waves the little paper a little, then secures it in his pocket. “I’ll read it w-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two!” a voice comes from the tree behind Grace, and when she turns she’s face to face with none other than Norman Dike. “What are you doing out of your foxhole?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were coming back from lunch, sir,” Luz explains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How long has it passed since they left their friends? It’s probably been a while and this might be the one and only time Grace will ever agree with Dike’s annoyance. It’s not really wise staying out of foxholes, so they should really move their conversation there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suggest you get your asses to your foxholes, soldiers. Do your duty.” Both Grace and Luz stare blankly at him. “Well?” Dike prompts, motioning his hands to nowhere in particular. “Chop chop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz doesn’t even have the time to grab his bag with the radio, before Dike is already gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace blinks at his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Foxhole Norman scolding us for doing nothing. Who’d have thought,” Luz comments. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do your duty, </span>
  </em>
  <span>who does he think he's talking to? I've been doing my duty since August ‘42, unlike him who has yet to begin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The real question is,” Grace starts, bringing back her gaze to Luz, “how long will it take for the Krauts to finally bomb his foxhole?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a goddamn good question,” Luz laughs and for a moment it seems like they haven’t been talking about loving each other for the past half an hour. “Come on, let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz waits for her, then they head to their foxhole together. Grace wonders if their conversation ended with Dike’s arrival or if they’re going to talk about it once they reach their Belgian home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they realise that Muck is there waiting for them, Grace almost feels relieved that she doesn't have to talk about love again for the day. Love is the most beautiful thing and she really wants to finally be able to fully live it again, but right now with the fear throbbing in her chest, it actually feels like the scariest thing in the world.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>» info «</p><p>- I don't know how many of you know, but Glenn Miller's death is still being considered a mistery. He truly disappeared while flying from England to Paris on December 15th and his death wasn't made public until Christmas Eve. It's said that his plane was hit by Allied bombs by mistake. In fact, the bomber had abandoned its mission and according to standard procedure, had to unload unused bombs in a specific area of the English Channel on the return flight. One of the crew members claimed to have seen a Norseman (Miller's plane was a UC-64 Norseman) fly below the bombers during the releasing of the bombs. BUT others say that it's more likely that his plane flew into very cold weather and experienced carburetor icing, causing the plane to lose power and crash into the water.<br/>Others say that he did reach Paris but was then captured by the SS Obersturmbannführer Otto Skorzeny, who wanted to use him to get to General Eisenhower and kidnap him (or kill him) in a raid to take place on Christmas 1944. Miller was part, along with Major David Niven, in a covert operation to negotiate the armistice of Nazi officers and may have been tortured and killed for that as well.<br/>I think I read somewhere that in 2019, an American organisation called TIGHAR started to investigate on Glenn Miller's death once again!</p><p>- CLAP YOUR HANDS if you shouted EXPECTO PATRONUM when Julién was teaching Grace how to 'rester en vie' lol jokes aside, I got actually inspired by the whole Patronus concept!</p><p>- this is completely useless and stupid, but actually the phrase "chop chop" has its origin in the first half of 1800 and was used by Chinese workers at sea and therefore adopted by British seamen (when Britain occupied south China). So I don't really know if it was used by the rest of the world by the time of WWII but oh well hahah!</p><p>* * *</p><p>WELL HELLO!<br/>Oh my gosh I've been wanting to write this chapter since basically forever hwjfbdwejfbjewk I HOPE YOU LIKED IT! I know it's not particularly happy, BUT Grace has her reasons to be afraid and we all got that by now. But it's there, their love, they both confessed their love for each other now! I wanted to stay true to Grace's character and after everything she's been through and still going through, it makes no sense for her to just throw herself into Luz's arms like that. Even though she loves him. And let's say war takes precedence over everything else for the moment.<br/>Please if you have any question just ask, I don't bite &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Animam Agere</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you Angie for helping me out as always, it means a lot to me and Hélène wouldn't be the same without you!<br/>Title comes from latin, it's used to break down the finality of death and it translates in "to have one's last breath". So, yeah, enjoy?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’ve seen death. I’ve seen my friends, my men, being killed. And this is-- it doesn’t take too many days of that and you change dramatically.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -Richard Winters </em>
</p><p>New Years Eve comes around quickly.</p><p>Grace can't quite comprehend how time passed so slowly until Christmas, and now it almost seems like all of a sudden someone has pushed the clock forward a week. She doesn't mind that, on the contrary, she's quite glad that the days don't seem fifty hours long anymore, but she can't wrap her head around why that happened. Maybe it's because her head is buzzing with thoughts all day, everyday, and it keeps her busy somehow. Not that she didn't have any before, but now... there are a few more.</p><p>In all this, tomorrow will mark the year 1945, and Grace thinks she has been fighting in this war for almost six years now. <em> Six fucking years </em>. Years that no one will give back to her once the war is over, years that she was busy fighting not one, but two wars: one against Nazism and one against herself. </p><p>Years that have been blown away, like dust in the wind.</p><p>She wouldn't properly call it a total waste, though, because she has learned so much about the world, about people, about herself, about politics and strategies. She's always suffered in her life, but these years taught her another kind of suffering, it has taught her loss and grief. This war, albeit brutal, has taught her how to build a powerful armour, which makes her the person she is now. Would she be the same if she stayed with her family? Obviously not. Would she be less miserable? Not likely. Would she be safer? Probably.</p><p>But she wouldn't change a single thing. </p><p>Sure, thinking about it, there are a couple of things she would have gladly done without, and if given the chance to go back in time, she would change them without batting an eye. Like making Henri flee to Spain along with her, not trusting him when he told her, “I'll join you there tomorrow, trust me, my love.” Or not letting Hannah accompany her on that mission that took her life away.</p><p>But as far as her choices are concerned, Grace wouldn't change a thing. The two things that  she has always trusted fully is her judgment and her capabilities.</p><p>Grace sighs, wiping her dripping nose with the sleeve of her jacket and immediately tucking her arm back into the warmth under the blanket. With the wet, dirt and dried blood, her uniform has completely changed color, becoming a dark brown, almost black. The good thing is that the cold is so strong that by now she can no longer smell anything, except that of the bombs, but at least she's spared the awful odour that must come out of her clothes.</p><p>Muck has been asleep for a while on her shoulder, while Luz dozed off in front of her.</p><p>After Luz's unexpected declaration of love on Christmas Day, and Grace’s own semi-declaration, they both vowed that they will try to make sure that things aren’t awkward between them. But inevitably things weren't quite as they used to be, or at least it seemed like that to Grace; they both talk to each other and with the others as usual, but there's something different, something that keeps them apart. Luz tries in every way to remain the clown of the group, but every now and then Grace catches him staring into space or looking at her strangely. And he no longer invites her to lean on him to sleep, and neither does she. Grace wholeheartedly hopes it's just the embarrassment of the moment, because she already misses the solid and beautiful relationship they had built in the past months.</p><p>The day after Christmas, Luz handed her back the letter she had written to Henri, smiled softly and then whispered, “I understand.” After that, they never talked about it anymore.</p><p>Grace hugs the blanket even tighter, her helmet sliding almost completely over her eyes, but she can still see Luz move and then get up and disappear beyond the trees.</p><p>She sighs again, snuggling up to Muck.</p><p>“He’ll come around,” Muck says out of the blue, startling her a little. She was convinced he was asleep, yet he was subtly spying on her. “Just give him some time.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” she murmurs. “It’s just- it’s odd. I feel odd. The last time someone told me he loved me, was an SS officer who I was flirting with one night just to gather information. I hated that feeling. And now <em> Luz </em> tells me he loves me, and it makes me feel happy, but also odd nonetheless.”</p><p>“You’ll come around too.”</p><p>Muck lifts his head from her shoulder, making his neck creak after being in that position for at least an hour. He gives her a big, soft smile, and then a friendly pinch on the cheek.</p><p>Grace takes a deep breath and says the one thing that has been pressing into her chest for days.</p><p>“He changed me,” she looks directly into her friend’s bright eyes. “You all did somehow, but he reached spots that I thought I had hidden from the rest of the world. Hidden so well that I forgot they even existed.”</p><p>“No, he didn’t change you,” Muck shakes his head, his tone firm. Grace lifts a brow. “<em> You </em>changed you. He just gave you a reason.”</p><p>“Wow, where did that even come from?” Grace laughs, impressed by the sudden and totally out of character statement.</p><p>Muck shrugs. “I just improvised. Not gonna lie, I’m quite impressed with myself.”</p><p>Grace dissolves into a puddle of laughter and has to throw her head under the blanket to limit the noise. She then sees Muck's stomach shaking as he fights a fit of giggles too. </p><p>She remembers that same German officer who told her he was in love with her after spending barely ten minutes talking, she remembers him telling her that her laughing was like ripples in a still pond after a stone has been thrown in, that it radiated outwards through the crowded but rather quiet pub.</p><p>Grace is hit by a rush of chills that have nothing to do with the cold.</p><p>As Luz slowly steps into their foxhole again, Grace thinks that she's become rather moody in the past few days. Just a moment before she was laughing with Muck, and now her stomach grumbles in pain.</p><p><em> You changed you </em>, Muck had said. </p><p>Therefore, it’s only Grace herself that can pull herself out of the low mood she’s been trapped in ever since Luz’s declaration and his subsequent avoidance of her. She needs to work on it, until she feels her spark re-grow into a healthy flame.</p><p>At midnight, Muck takes out his lemon powder and makes lemon snow cones to celebrate. Grace's throat burns from how cold it is, but she doesn't care.</p><p>The three of them tangle themselves into a huge embrace and, still with their foreheads glued together, make a promise. They promise to each other that they will do everything in their power to make 1945 a turning point in their lives - war permitting.</p><p>Grace's eyes linger on Luz's for longer than expected, and even though it's pitch black, Grace knows exactly what his eyes say.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b>January 2nd, 1945.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Grace stabs the frozen ground with the shovel, while the muscles in her arms are calling for help. Due to the cold and the fact that they haven't moved for days, all her limbs are sore and therefore digging a foxhole takes twice as much effort.</p><p>“You sure you don’t wanna rest?” Martin asks her, his breath short. “Hoobler and I can finish it.”</p><p>Grace shakes her head. “No no, it’s okay. I need this.”</p><p>“Hey, Hoob,” Christenson comes into vision, his Thompson secured in his hands. “Patrol order. Come on.”</p><p>“Coming,” he says happily, jumping out the half made foxhole and waving them goodbye.</p><p>Martin gives her a look that says 'forget I said that', to which she responds with a half smile as the two continue digging.</p><p>If Grace utilises her sharp sight, from a distance she can recognise the silhouettes of houses and chimneys. It's Foy, the town that's their final target, the town that would also put an end to that endless winter trapped in a Belgian forest. So they say, at least.</p><p>That very same morning, Easy Company was sent to clean up the Bois Jaques again, the forest that surrounds the village. While marching from their old position to their new one, they encountered little resistance from the Germans, sporadic machine gun fire but nothing too damaging. They have now taken their stand and are all intent on digging their new homes for the days to come.</p><p>When they arrived at the location half an hour prior, Grace had immediately headed over to Muck and Luz, but seeing them digging together with Penkala, she turned on her heels and headed straight for Hoobler. Perhaps spending a few days with him and Martin will help clear her mind a little; Grace wonders if the two of them will manage to help her to unwind a little. Martin tries his best to always play tough, but underneath he's softhearted and also very funny. Grace loves his company.</p><p>With a little struggling, they finally manage to finish the foxhole. Grace had just flattened herself to the side when Buck appears.</p><p>“Even though I already know the answer, I have to ask, just in case,” he comes closer, clearly rather annoyed. “Have you seen Dike?”</p><p>Grace scoffs loudly, starting to fiddle with the seam of the blanket that’s coming undone. </p><p>“Yes, about a week ago maybe?” she replies, earning a little chuckle from Martin. Buck glares at first, but then gives in eventually and his features soften a bit. “Must have been Christmas, yes, I remember now. He told me and Luz to ‘chop chop’ while we were coming back from lunch, babbling something about not doing our duty. Nice coming from him, eh?”</p><p>“I haven’t seen him all day, for fuck’s sake,” Buck blurts out, and Grace sees in him the same look she always sees in Lipton and Peacock whenever they come asking for Dike, the three Ds look: disapproval, discouragement, disdain. “Where the hell does he ever go?”</p><p>“Don’t know, but I wonder how come he hasn’t ended up in an enemy’s hole in all this time we’ve been here,” Martin speaks, settling himself next to Grace. “Given he always wanders off god knows where.”</p><p>“Perhaps he made friends with all the gnomes that live in the forest,” Grace suggests, shrugging and suddenly thinking about Welsh. “They might have taught him some tricks to survive.”</p><p>“Wish these gnomes would help us too.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll leave you two trolls to your gnomes and actually go look for him,” Buck informs them, barely managing to hold back a laugh. “See you later.”</p><p>“Good luck.”</p><p>Grace and Martin spend the next half an hour chatting about this and that; even with all the patrols they've done together, she never found herself talking to him that much especially as they were never foxhole mates. Martin knows quite a lot about Grace, but he asks her a lot of questions about her life with SOE and the Maquis anyway, and for once Grace doesn't mind answering.</p><p>After a while she announces that she's going off to relieve herself and then she will take the opportunity to go and look for Hoobler, who's been on patrol for longer than anticipated.</p><p>All around her comrades have yet to finish digging their foxholes, and some of them stop Grace to greet her and ask her how she's doing. Grace is delighted that they take the time to inquire about her health or just say hello when they see her, this didn't happen often in SOE. There they were more like androids than people, and for what they had been trained to do that worked just fine.</p><p>Grace deliberately goes around wide so she doesn't have to pass close to Muck and Luz. It's not that she wants to ignore them, but if they see her they would ask her why she didn't stay with them and she doesn't feel like giving out explanations because she doesn't even know the answers herself.</p><p>She feels like an ungrateful fool, but she can't help it.</p><p>She's so focused on finding ways not to get close to them that she almost gets lost in the forest. Grace decides to do her business there and then immediately go back; she hasn't met Hoobler, so that probably means he's still on patrol with Christenson.</p><p>She doesn’t even have a chance to finish her thoughts when a joyful voice takes her by surprise.</p><p>“Grace!” Grace turns around only to find Hoobler coming up at her with his usual toothy smile. “What are you doing out here?”</p><p>“Just taking a piss,” she says as he gets closer, zipping up her pants. What great timing, Hoobler. “And looking for you, actually. You’ve been gone for some time.”</p><p>“Oh,” Hoobler blinks a couple of times, then nods. “I killed a German during the patrol, and he had a Luger on him!”</p><p>Grace just stares at him, her eyes going round at the calm and indifference with which he uttered those words. Hoobler is always so gleeful and likeable and life-loving, that Grace sometimes forgets that he's also a war enthusiast. In a way he's very similar to Grace, who doesn't blink when it comes to killing, but she doesn't do it because she enjoys it. Not that she's judging her friend, it's just odd knowing his character.</p><p>“Well, what happened?” </p><p>Hoobler shrugs and just in that moment Grace notices the Luger in his hands. “He was riding a horse like he had his ass on fire. I aimed, shot, and killed the man. And as we were searching him, I noticed he had a Luger so I simply couldn’t help myself. After all, he won’t be needing it anymore. I’ve been looking for one since we started this war! Then I had to show the boys!”</p><p>“Can I see?” Grace now smirks at his enthusiasm. </p><p>“Sure thing,” he replies and hands her the gun. </p><p>Grace still believes the Colts are better guns than the Lugers. </p><p>She turns the gun over and around in her hand, and the feeling is odd because she hasn't held a gun in a long time since her best friend is now an M1 Garand rifle. Surely it's all a suggestion or maybe the fact that the gun remained in Hoobler's eager hands for a while, but the iron feels like it’s burning her skin. Just holding the weapon in her hand makes her shiver, her mind wandering to the Luger’s destructive power. She returns the weapon to its new owner and gives Hoobler a lopsided grin. “Be careful with it. It’s semi-automatic, nothing you’ve seen before.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, smiling. “Listen, since you’re here… You see, I was wondering if you’re okay?” When Grace frowns, he continues. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been acting strange lately, and I guess I just wanted to know if everything’s okay. And that you can talk to me if you feel like.”</p><p>Grace can’t contain the small “aww” that comes out of her mouth. She realises now that lately she has been neglecting almost everyone, given the fact that she has been squeezed into the foxhole with the same two people for days on end. Hoobler is one of her best friends, and it also shows in the fact that he’s noticed that something is wrong with her - which is a great test of friendship because she's very talented at putting on a mask and pretending that everything is fine. Hoobler has always cooed over her in the most innocent and kind way, since they first met in Normandy.</p><p>“Oh, Hoob,” she purrs, patting him gently on his shoulder. “It’s quite a long and boring story.”</p><p>“As far as I remember, we’re foxhole partners again!” he jumps, waving the pistol as if it was a fan. “We could kick Martin out and you can tell your bro Hoobler what’s going on in that head of yours.”</p><p>Grace pokes him on the arm. “Come on, let’s get back.”</p><p>Grace hasn’t even taken a step, when a loud shot pierces her eardrums and it makes her jump. With haste she slides the rifle off her shoulder and points it towards the trees, but there's no one around. Only the eerie silence of the woods.</p><p>Then she turns around, and terror takes over her face.</p><p>Hoobler is lying on the ground, the Luger barely sticking out of his pocket. It takes Grace a second to process the fact that he just accidentally shot himself.</p><p>“Hoob!” She throws her rifle away to the ground and kneels to her friend, who's beginning to wriggle in the snow. "Where are you hurt? Tell me!"</p><p>“Shit fuck,” Hoobler groans, pointing to a spot on his leg. “It just went off.”</p><p>Grace finds the hole in his trousers, where a bloodstain is beginning to paint the fabric a crimson colour. With her hands and a strength she didn't know she possessed, she manages to rip off a piece of fabric but Hoobler is wearing several layers of clothing and she can't see the wound.</p><p>“Medic!” Grace screams, hoping someone has heard the shot and is running to their aid. “Medic!”</p><p>Suddenly Hashey appears, his lanky figure running towards them.</p><p>“Call Roe!” Grace yells at him, so angrily that it was as if he was the cause of Hoobler's suffering. But a sense of horror is growing in her stomach and she can’t help being furious. “Get someone! Now!”</p><p>Hashey says nothing, just nods and runs away.</p><p>Grace pulls out the Luger from Hoobler’s pocket and tosses it away. </p><p>“Hoob, just breathe, alright? Roe is coming,” Grace tries to reassure him, and herself too. The colour is draining out of Hoobler’s face and she feels so scared right now. “You’ll be okay, just stay still.”</p><p>A moment later a group of people pours in on them, but Grace hasn't even heard them coming. They all kneel over Hoobler, trying to calm him as Lipton analyses the wound.</p><p>“I told you to call a medic, not the goddamn cavalry!” Grace yells at Hashey, who stands in front of her with his eyes fixed on his friend. “Fuck.”</p><p>“Medic!” someone yells, maybe Lipton, Grace doesn't know. Her gaze is focused on Hoobler's agonising expression, and he continues to repeat the same words over and over again between moans, "I wasn’t touching it, I swear."</p><p>Grace just hopes that in a few hours they will all laugh at the incident, making fun of Hoobler for his clumsiness.</p><p>“Take it easy, buddy,” Buck says, cupping Hoobler’s face with his hands.</p><p>“Hurts like a son of a bitch,” he moans in response, his breath rasping in his lungs.</p><p>“You’ll be all right. You hear me?”</p><p>Roe finally arrives, sliding himself between her and Lipton. “Let me see it,” he says as he kneels down, his hands already at work.</p><p>Grace is afraid. She's afraid of her friend's face losing color as seconds pass, and she wonders what a leg injury could be compared to other seemingly more serious injuries. Welsh was wounded in the leg just the week before and survived, right? Sisk screwed up his leg too, yet he's in the hospital and on the mend. Hoobler will soon be well and he will be safe within the walls of a real hospital, with some fresh sheets and a beautiful nurse changing his bandages every so often.</p><p>But still her heart hammers and her brain is short-circuiting with anxious thoughts.</p><p>Buck takes off his jacket and places it atop of Hoobler, trying to warm him up a bit. All around the others are talking, but she's too focused on her friend to care what others are saying. Perconte next to her is resting both hands on Hoobler's shoulder.</p><p>“I can’t see a thing. We gotta get back to an aid station,” Roe tells them.</p><p>And in that moment Grace sees it.</p><p>The life leaving Donald Hoobler.</p><p>Grace can't believe her eyes. She doesn’t want to anyway. The last time she saw a soul leaving someone's body, it was nearly a year ago with Hannah. She remembers exactly the moment life left her young body, just like she saw it leave another friend a moment ago. Another image she won't ever be able to erase.</p><p>Pain knocks on the door and walks right in. There is nothing that could prepare her for the pain of this farewell. </p><p>With the corner of her eye, Grace sees her comrades standing up. Some are walking away, some are still there but she can't quite grasp what they're doing. She just feels the presence of Roe still next to her.</p><p>The adrenalin flows through her veins like a carp through the river, but she can’t move a single muscle, not even to scream. The absolute horror completely paralyses her, and the more she thinks about running away, or simply moving a little, the more she feels discouraged and utterly terrified. Her legs begin to cramp from crouching too long but she doesn’t dare to move, even to ease the pain.</p><p>Time passes and she hears a voice, Roe's voice, mumbling something into her ear but it's as if someone switched off all the sounds around her.</p><p>Grace turns her face to Roe, her eyelids burning like hell because she hasn't blinked in all this time.</p><p>“Let it go,” Roe says kindly, and Grace wonders what he means with that. “Let him go.”</p><p>She feels his palm resting on the back of her hand, and in that moment she realises she's been holding Hoobler's hand all along.</p><p> </p><p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p><p> </p><p>“I’m telling you boys, we’re screwed.”</p><p>Grace is sitting on the case next to Guarnere, trying to massage warmth into her stiff fingers. It's getting dark and consequently the cold becomes more stinging, penetrating her bones like a disease.</p><p>Grace has been crouched up in her foxhole all day. The incident with Hoobler that very same morning devastated her, she couldn't stop thinking about his elated expression a moment before the fatal shot went off, only to turn into the expression of pure agony he displayed in the minutes to follow. And then his dead eyes, empty, so surreal on his face... closing forever.</p><p>Just a few minutes before, Guarnere dragged her out of the foxhole by force, bringing her along to Muck, Malarkey and Penkala. Guarnere is aware they're her closest friends, so she suspects he thought that they could erase some of her pain. </p><p>Grace loves them all, but no one will be able to erase this pain, not now.</p><p>Grace distinctly hears them talking about Dike, but she doesn't want to think about Dike right now.</p><p>Her mind is flooded with images of Hoobler, from the first day they met in that small French town, when he was so excited to meet a real life spy. He had asked her if he could see her kit, and everyone had laughed at him.</p><p>Grace remembers that day when Talbert and Liebgott competed for the best German trophy, and Hoobler came up with, “My Luger's gonna put y'all to shame when I get it.”</p><p>
  <em> Your Luger put an end to your life, Hoob. </em>
</p><p>Grace remembers when Luz said Hoobler was one of the youngest in the company, she was born only a few days before him. Grace remembers him in Holland, the glee on his face when he and Webster approached her and Perconte waving a jar of olives... who knows how Webster will take the death of his dearest friend. Hoobler, who missed his mum's stew for Christmas. Hoobler, who thought that Grace was pretty. Hoobler, all the days they spent together as foxhole partners, the chatter, the teasing at the expense of the other comrades, the patrols, the relief on his face when he saw her alive after her foxhole was bombed.</p><p>Grace will miss him so, so much. </p><p>If only her instructors at SOE could see her now, pining for the death of a comrade and a friend. They would tell her that she's stupid, and weak, that she has learned nothing from their teachings. </p><p>They would tell her to get a grip, push back the tears and get a move on.</p><p>But Grace has no tears. She has wept them all over a year ago with Henri's death.</p><p>“Jesus Christ.” Guarnere’s voice breaks off her trance. “We gotta do all this with a CO who’s got his head so far up his fucking ass that lump in his throat is his goddamn nose.”</p><p>Unexpectedly for her and clearly also for the others, Grace lets out a feeble chuckle.</p><p>“Oh, she’s still with us,” Penkala comments, kicking her boot.</p><p>Grace feels a new presence next to her, and before she has the time to turn and look who it is, Muck announces Lipton’s arrival.</p><p>“Hey, First Sergeant.”</p><p>“Hey boys,” he greets them, sitting next to her. “And lady.”</p><p>“Hey, Lip.”</p><p>“Hey, Muck, what’s the word?” the sergeant asks, his voice a little interrupted by the cold.</p><p>“Oh, you know. Sitting around freezing our ass off, singing Dike’s praises,” Muck informs him sarcastically.</p><p>Grace can't see Lipton’s face, but she has no doubts about the look on the sergeant's face upon hearing Dike's name.</p><p>“Yeah, Lieutenant Dike,” Lipton mutters. “Well, I’ll tell you, I wouldn’t want to be a replacement officer coming in here. Get thrown in with a group of guys who’ve known each other for what, two years? You’ve been in combat together since Normandy. He’s supposed to just show up and lead them? How does a guy do that? How could anyone really hope to gain the respect of the toughest, most professional, most dedicated sons of bitches in the entire ETO? Huh?”</p><p><em> Quite convincing, </em>Grace thinks but she doesn’t dare to say it out loud. She knows Lipton is just doing his duty as a sergeant, trying to keep up morale. She's not sure if he himself believes his own words, just as she's not sure that the others do. But Lipton has become Easy Company's glue, and Grace can't help but respect him and his decisions.</p><p>“If you ask me, a guy’d have to march off Berlin and come back with Hitler’s mustache or something,” he continues with an adorable smirk, making them all chuckle. “Anyway, listen. You guys don’t worry about Dike. All right? We all do our jobs, everything’ll be fine.”</p><p>When Lipton leaves them, Grace stands up.</p><p>“I did it, though,” she said, climbing over the case. She waves them goodbye, but her escape is interrupted by Muck.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>Grace turns again. “I’ve been thrown into groups of soldiers that have known each other for months or years, and even though it didn’t always go well, I've never disrespected anyone. I've always done my part, and even the most reluctant people respected me in the end. As I said, it didn't always end well, but I always gave priority to my men even when they didn't respect me as a woman and as a soldier. And as a captain. Dike doesn't even try, and I could never feel compassion or respect for such a man. See you around, guys.”</p><p>Grace walks away, thinking of all the times she's had to fight just to earn people's respect, and of the abysmal difference between past-Grace and this one. She's glad she got rid of some aspects of her old persona, but she has to admit she misses some.</p><p>Being a spy is being alone and learning how to make fear nothing at all. When fear is gone, focus remains and you become more than others can become. It's a necessary sacrifice. Spies are only normal to other spies and it takes a rather strange person to become a spy and Grace has never had any doubt about her being strange indeed. Normal people are strange to her, so that must be it, right? But at the end of the day, Grace guesses that being so different leaves you no option, after all: either you become a spy or not, you're alone.</p><p>As she reaches her foxhole, Grace decides she will allow herself to mourn Hoobler until the end of the day; she absolutely has no intention in hiding memories of her friend in the mazes of her mind, but she will try to bring back some of that Grace who could contain the pain, turning it into something livable.</p><p>Hoobler never wanted her or anyone else to spend days, weeks, months mourning him. </p><p>Hoobler never wanted to die, but that's another story.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Goodbye, Hoobler ♥ it was nice writing about you.</p><p>» info «</p><p>- In the show they kind of dramaticised his death, but Hoobler actually was killed by his own weapon because it had gotten snagged on a piece of barbed wire :( also, in the show he dies on January 2nd, but he actually died on the 3rd. Let's say Band of Brothers timeline in "Bastogne" and "The Breaking Point" is quite scrambled lol but again I'm sticking to the show's events and not the real ones, as you'll also see in the next chapters.</p><p>- People seem to forget that often, but Hoobler WAS INDEED a war enthusiast! A lot of veterans said that even in their books, expecially Webster who used to say that Hoolber did enjoy fighting.</p><p>- What Grace says to Hoobler about the Luger it's TRUE! Due to its unfamiliar safety mechanisms, it was so easy for the Allied troops who found/took Lugers to accidentally discharge the weapons.</p><p>* * *</p><p>Hello there!<br/>I can't belive I just killed Hoobler jwjfbwefbw I feel so guilty even though it's obviously not my fault. His accidental death always makes me sad and angry, and writing about it had me in an odd mood, ngl. But well, I truly hope you liked this chapter anyway, it was quite intense! And it's just the beginning, because the next two are a little more... devastating.<br/>Well, I wish you all a good day!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. It's All About Them</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much Angie for your help as always!! ♥</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning, Grace wakes up to her rumbling stomach reminding her that it hasn’t been fed  for almost twenty four hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rubbing her tired eyes, she releases a quite loud yawn as she stretches, her muscles aching because she didn't stir all night long. Grace's eyes lazily roll open, glazed over with the remnants of a nightmare. As the latter luckily dances its way out of her mind, she thinks her feet are ready for the ground, for whatever will come her way that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to her, Martin is still asleep, small noises coming out of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace smiles to herself, noticing how peaceful her comrades seem while they sleep. Does she look as calm as the others when she’s asleep? Does her internal turbulence reflect on her outward appearance even while she’s asleep, or does she look like a little angel fallen to Earth like Martin does in this very moment?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace smirks, deciding she won’t ever tell anyone that for a moment she thought of Martin as an angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A light chatter begins to break the silence of the forest, and shortly afterwards Martin wakes up too. He glances up at Grace as if to check that everything is alright and, when she gives him a lopsided, tired grin, he leans his head again against the foxhole's side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you have a good sleep?” he asks with his eyes closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spectacular,” Grace yawns again, feeling like she could fall back asleep any moment. “I dreamed that there was a war, and we were in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin smirks, but doesn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace’s stomach rumbles again in protest, so she pulls out a K-ration from her bag and devours it in no time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Grace,” a voice calls for her from behind, and when she turns around she sees Talbert coming towards them. “Need to check the perimeter, fancy tagging along?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really, but it’s not like I have a choice, do I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddamn right you don’t,” Talbert asserts, offering a hand to help her get up. “Sadly, it’s an order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next time check the meaning of the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>fancy </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the dictionary, then,” Grace says, faking a know-it-all tone, which she's very good at. Talbert rolls his eyes just to tease her, but she ignores him and accepts his hand anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With rifles firmly in hand, they both set off towards the edge of the forest, joined by Perconte, although Grace is not very comfortable with this as they are too close to the town of Foy; a well trained sniper positioned in the right place would kill her instantly. She herself would be capable of the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The patrol runs smoothly, no issues and no signs of Germans nearby. At one point they pass by a series of larger trees, and Grace positions herself behind one, the barrel of the gun resting on a twig as she looks right into the scope. The town seems deserted, there's just a little movement on the left side: the Germans are dressed in white overalls to blend in with the snow, walking quietly as if they were going to get a beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace must gather all her strength not to take them all out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two bucks says you’re thinking of exterminating the town by yourself,” Talbert breaks the silence, earning a chuckle from Perconte.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She might succeed in that,” he comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace can’t help but grin, giving one last look and then turning to face her friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not that stupid,” she lies, because she indeed was being stupid. “Besides, I might take down a few but then we’ll find the rest of the flock on our asses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fair enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of,” Grace starts, as they set out on the way back. “Do we have any information regarding this infamous attack on Foy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think?” Perconte grumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Personally, I think they've been making us go up and down like hamsters for days, especially since fucking General Patton and his tanks came and stole the show without even being invited. And that between one thing and another, we're losing too many men unnecessarily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re referring to Hoobler, that was an accident, not anybody’s fault,” Talbert replies a little hesitantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of Hoobler, Grace's stomach does a somersault. Sooner or later she will get over him, maybe, but for now she has to get used to a punch right between her ribs every time she thinks back to his terrified expression before he left this world for good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nevertheless, Grace agrees with them, it's nobody's fault if Hoobler died. Just the war.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it was an accident, I was there,” she replies feebly. “I was referring to the casualties we get each time we move position and obviously to all those daily barrages.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” Talbert says sympathetically, squeezing her shoulder a little. “We just need to hold tight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The journey back is rather quiet, but Grace doesn’t mind because it’s a silence that is worth much more than a thousand words. Easy Company has been stuck in that forest for two weeks now - even though it seems more like eternity - </span>
  <span>common feelings like cold, fear, anger are shared between all of the men, even though everyone is dealing with them in different ways. Silence is one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace bids goodbye to Talbert and Perconte when she sees three familiar helmeted heads not far away. As she approaches, she notices Buck crouched down near their foxhole, and as soon as he notices Grace's presence he stands up and gives her a look mixed with reproach and concern.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Buck is acting rather unusually these days, he's a little more serious and composed than Grace remembered him being in Normandy and England.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you, Grace,” he points a finger at her and for a moment she feels like she’s being accused of something. “Will you stay safe for me? Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” she blinks, a little astounded by the unexpected request. With a quick glance towards Muck, Penkala and Luz, she realises they too are concerned by the lieutenant’s behaviour. “I can try?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do it,” Buck pats her on her shoulder and then leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace stares at his back until he vanishes behind the trees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” she asks them as she drops herself to the edge of the foxhole, her legs dangling next to Luz’s. The moment her buttock makes contact with the frozen soil, she feels a shiver run down her spine like a bolt of electricity, reaching her brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it's snowing again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muck shakes his head. “Dunno, man. He came here babbling about not doing anything stupid. Might have something to do with what happened to Hoobler, poor man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do anything stupid?” Penkala scoffs. “Who the hell is he talking to? A bunch of morons who volunteered to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. Can you get any more stupid than that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably not,” Luz replies distractedly, his teeth chattering for the cold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace puts her arms around herself in a vain attempt to keep warm. “Come on, guys, leave him be,” she mutters, clouds of breath forming as she speaks. “He’s just worried about us. At least </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>worries about his men.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace didn’t need to speak Dike’s name for them to know she was talking about him. They stay silent, but she knows they understand what she was referring to. Norman Dike has been a popular topic lately, but Grace is fed up with him. She regretted mentioning him and hopes they don't pick it up as a topic of conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if he had read her mind, Muck breaks the silence with something that has nothing to do with their idle commander.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swam across the Niagara once,” he says proudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we go again,” Grace laughs, gently kicking him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you know about this nonsense?” asks Luz with a grimace that makes her chuckle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. “Malarkey and I have heard this story thousands of times, for chrissake. I’m surprised you didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muck sticks out his tongue, returning the small kick with his boot. “Hey, that’s not true!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go ask Malark, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright, I might’ve told this story one too many times because it makes me feel impressive,” Muck surrenders eventually, “but definitely not thousands!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's really hard for Grace to remain serious when Muck is there defending his honour and his tales, with Luz and Penkala looking at him with those gazes somewhere between incredulous and amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace pauses to observe her friends, and as Muck tells the Niagara story for the umpteenth time, she wonders how she even thought of avoiding them the whole day. She sought solitude because she didn't want to talk about or to face Hoobler's death over and over again, but the reality is that she was afraid of being rude to them - even if not on purpose - and consequently have them getting tired of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking back now, she realises this is really stupid. Perhaps the stupidest thing she has done for some time, because it's their presence that's helping her to deal with what’s happening at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's all about them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz looks over to her for a moment, then chuckles when he realises she’s mimicking Muck word by word, “Now, personally, I didn’t think it was all that stupid, but my mum, my sister Ruth, they gave me all kinds of hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I bet, Muck,” Luz replies, still laughing at Grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So did Faye,” Muck completely changes his tone, as he always does when he talks about his girlfriend. It’s so endearing and Grace never gets tired of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aaah, sweet Faye Tanner,” Luz mocks him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut it, George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, they had a point,” Penkala observes, giving him a look. “You’re an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all erupt into a loud cackle of laughter, Grace almost falling down into the foxhole with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t be the only one to do stupid things, come on, let’s hear if you’ve ever done anything stupider than this,” Muck challenges them and his gaze lingers on Grace, he hasn’t forgiven her for parroting him while he was telling the story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace shrugs. “I joined the army, isn’t that stupid enough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, miss, you need to give us something more,” Penkala adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I threw myself out of perfectly good airplanes so many times I lost count and, as you said, Penky, how can you get any more stupid than that?” Grace raises a brow. She loves playing with them, she loves being the smartass in the group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, they don’t call her Smarty for nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t it nine jumps?” Luz asks her, his face scrunched up funnily. “You told me that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How- you remember it?” she blinks, a little bit surprised he actually remembered it when she didn’t even remember telling him in the first place. “Yeah, Holland was my ninth jump.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace ignores Muck and Penkala’s whistles of surprise, and she racks her brains, trying to find something stupid she's done that doesn't involve all the war bullshit over the past few years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if she had been struck by lightning, she suddenly remembers an episode from several years earlier and she almost chokes on air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I don’t know if this’ll top you swimming in the Niagara,” she starts, laughing at herself for the memory she just thought of, “but this must probably be one of the silliest things I’ve done. So, it was maybe 1937? Can’t remember. My father used to have these fancy dinners at our house with all his navy friends and he always forced me to participate. Which is something I’ve never completely understood, given he couldn’t stand my presence and took every opportunity to pretend I wasn’t his daughter. Anyway, one night he gave this huge party and I had to perform. I wasn’t a proper performer, but I loved to sing. I was so pissed at him for whatever reason, and before performing he slapped me in the face because I said I didn’t want to, alright? So basically, I took my revenge: I knew he’d been bragging with his friends that I was very good at singing, the next Judy Garland or something, so I just… I pretended I couldn’t sing, I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful, </span>
  </em>
  <span>completely out of tune. And people started laughing at me and I was laughing too, because I had my revenge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace takes a breath before continuing, seeing the others chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… later that night, I found out that there was a man, I don’t remember his name, who was a friend of my father but also a producer. If only I’d forget about my stupid father and sing with my real voice… I’d have had a chance to go to music school, or perform in high-class clubs. There goes my chance to become the next Judy Garland, and all of it because of my stupid pride.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s simultaneously funny and sad,” Penkala comments. “I didn’t know you used to sing, Grace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you never told us!” Luz protests, shocked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. Kind of,” Grace is quick to add. “Not professionally. It was mostly me singing a couple of songs at cafés or at school. Captain Winters can confirm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I knew you like to sing, but I’ve never imagined you’d think of it as a proper career,” Muck says eventually, genuinely invested in the topic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it's one of those dreams that you're a little ashamed of because they're quite ambitious, you know. Then with everything that happened after, I couldn't do anything else but put that dream aside. I haven't been singing for years, the first time I started it again it was back in Carentan with you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace's childhood was divided into two dreams: flying airplanes and becoming a singer. The first was really unattainable - even though now perhaps it’s a little more realistic - and the second was more of a whim, just as unattainable. So Grace never gave much thought to these two passions, assuming she would fail anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I must say,” Penkala smirks, snuggling up to Muck to get himself warmer, “I wish I could listen to this performance of yours, you should’ve recorded it after.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yes, cheering us up during these hard times,” Luz says. “Then sell the record to the radios, so they'd play it to make this war feel a little less shitty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was awful,” Grace sinks her face into her hands, “ but still better than </span>
  <span>Herr Hitler howling through the radio like a doberman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A look of shocked surprise forms into their faces and Grace is wondering what she said to have them look at her like that, but then they all burst out laughing uproariously. Their laughter isn’t the only noise coming out their mouths, but there is laughter in their eyes as well, in the way their faces change into a vision of unrestrained mirth. That kind of laughter that's like a soul-elevator, bringing them upwards and Grace can't help but join in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t believe we finally got rid of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if only for a month, that’s something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, guys, leave him alone!” Grace blurts out, the left side of her cracked lip tugs upwards, creating a feeble smirk which neither Talbert or Muck notice, too busy gazing at Peacock shaking hands with his men. “Not the brightest in the universe, I’ll give you that, but I'd sell an arm to have him instead of Foxhole Norman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth is that Grace has never managed to hedge her bets on Peacock, she's never identified with his methods but he's definitely not a bad officer. Since they went on the last patrol together and he told her</span>
  <em>
    <span> “I'm relying on your aim”</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she saw him in a different way. Peacock really trusted her, even though they never had a close relationship like she did with Welsh or with other officers. Still, he relies on her judgment and experience, and she's not lucky enough to say that's a common thing among her other superiors through the years. And somehow it makes her feel accomplished and proud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guys are shaking Peacock’s hands and giving him friendly pats on the shoulder, congratulating him on his thirty day furlough. He has the brightest smile on his face and Grace can’t recall ever seeing him smile before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, guys. It really means a lot, you know?” he’s saying to the men, looking rather embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some time later, Grace finds herself squeezed between Liebgott and Popeye, playing with an empty tin. Her face is almost entirely sunk into the collar of her jacket, only her tired eyes peeking through under her helmet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, Smarty, looks like you’re hiding or something,” Liebgott erupts, giving her an exaggerated slap on her back. “Nazis ain’t hiding behind Domingus’ pot of soup, ya know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>hiding, Joe,” she mumbles through the fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace exits her self-imposed prison and cranes her neck behind Liebgott before looking him in the eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said I am hiding,” she says. “I’m trying to avoid the cameras and that fucking war propaganda.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Popeye scoffs. “Are you afraid they’d broadcast your face somewhere?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” Grace explains patiently. Perhaps they forgot she’s the most wanted by the Gestapo, but she certainly didn’t. It’s true the Gestapo think she’s been dead for over six months, but she definitely doesn’t feel like taking the risk, even though it’s doubtful that anyone would recognise her, given that. Grace is quite sure that these few weeks with little food, way too much cold and tiredness, have affected her features. She’s certain of it because she sees it in others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think they’re still looking for you?” Liebgott asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace shakes her head. “I don’t think so. But better be safe than sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, fucking Germans,” he agrees, finishing up his lunch. Grace knows well that Liebgott has a strong aversion towards the Germans and to Germany for what they’ve been doing to his people since before the war. She shares that aversion, and not only for the fact that they're fighting together at the front, but both of them are personally involved in the matter. For him, they're condemning his kind for not even god knows what. For Grace, they took everything from her but her honour and dignity. “There were POWs when I was sent back to HQ battalion. The urge to throttle them all was very difficult to suppress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that you restrained yourself, anyway,” Popeye comments, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Grace queries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Liebgott shrugs. “Let’s say I didn’t question them only with words.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace understands perfectly well what he means by that statement, but she prefers not to dig into details. Instead she moves her gaze up and sees Luz leaning against a tree, intent on talking to Muck and a replacement of their platoon, a certain Webb. Grace hears their voices but she doesn't know what they're talking about because she's very much distracted by Luz's figure. Even if lately they're more distant than usual, Grace can't help but think that her adoration for him grows incredibly day by day and she doesn't know how to deal with it anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's like they say: you fully realise the importance of someone when you lose them, and she feels similar towards Luz. She loved him before, but now that they're apart she realised her life is just miserable when he's not there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if someone had suddenly grabbed her head and pulled it out of the water, Grace hears their voices a little more distinctly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re one lucky bastard,” Muck tells him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Takes one to know one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz goes back to his bread, but his eyes linger a little on Grace, who realises she's been staring at him for a long time, and she actually feels her face flush. Before she attempts a smile, Luz smiles brightly at her and winks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Consider us blessed,” Muck is saying to Webb as he enters Grace's field of vision and so making Luz disappear. “Liebgott, that skinny little guy, got pinked in the neck in Holland,” he then says pointing at Liebgott, who displays a proud smirk. “Right next to him, that’s our Smarty, toughest little bitch in the whole company. Got wounded in Holland too, took a shrapnel as big as my hand in the back and came back on the field after just a week, still with a major limp.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace shivers a little, remembering the struggle of getting back into combat after that wound. Webb looks at her in awe, and she thinks he looks really, really young.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next to her, the other skinny little guy, that’s Popeye. He got shot in his scrawny little butt in Normandy,” he keeps going and Grace chuckles, shaking her head at him. “Buck got shot in his rather large butt in Holland.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace turns her head to Buck behind her, finding him showing off his ass in their direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, kind of an Easy Company tradition, getting shot in the ass,” Penkala comments out of the blue, and it's as true as it is troubling. But also kind of funny. She hopes she will never get a bullet in her ass, or anywhere else. She's had enough of wounds and scars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muck moves on, but Grace still follows them with her gaze until she feels Liebgott elbowing her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Propaganda fuckers coming this way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's probably an overreaction on her part, but Grace prefers her face to be neither photographed nor recognised by anyone that’s not in the 101st Airborne. For the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a little, friendly punch on both Liebgott and Popeye's legs, she gets up and walks to the opposite side from which the camera crews are coming, and nearly bumps into Joe Toye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joe!” Grace cheers him, squeezing his arm. “What are you doing here, I thought you were at the aid station?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Missed the panorama,” Toye jokes, returning the squeeze. “Glad to see you’re still in one piece.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, takes more than Kraut artillery to take this girl down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t have any doubt about it, sis,” he nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace gives him a big smile and then catches a glimpse of Richard and Nixon saluting Colonel Sink over Toye's shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Joe, catch up later, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yeah, about that,” he lowers his voice, coming closer to her as if he’s about to tell a secret. “Found a German knife at the aid station, someone must’ve taken it from a Kraut and then lost it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woha, let me see!” Grace can’t contain her excitement. If there's something she and Toye have in common, that’s their interest in knives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come find me later,” Toye winks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace waves goodbye to him, then she strides out to Richard, who doesn't immediately notice her because he's still staring at the spot where Sink has just disappeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She taps gently on his shoulder, announcing her presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Rich,” Grace greets him and he gives her a huge smile, circling her shoulders with an arm. “Nix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi, princess,” Nixon quips, winking. “What’s the word?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just trying to avoid the press,” she informs them, rolling her eyes and motioning somewhere behind her. “You know… just in case some SS gentleman sees the ‘Look How the Americans Are Having the Time of Their Life in Belgium’ newsreel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nixon gives her one of his funny laughs, and Grace loves his laughs; they’re so genuine and amusing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was actually going to warn you about it,” Richard says, glancing over to the men that have been going around with cameras since that morning. “It’s probably nothing, but better be wise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you think that,” Grace sighs. “Thought I was overreacting, but you never know with these people. I don’t wanna risk it, not yet. At least I think I lost a bit of my shape, so I should look like a proper guy from behind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard lets out a chuckle, but his eyes don't say what his mouth does, and his reaction more or less confirms Grace's hypothesis that their time in Belgium has changed her, and not just mentally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have your usual rosy cheeks, but you look just fine,” Nixon answers before Richard can. “Shape and all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, so let me hide behind you in case they look this way,” she jokes. “What did the colonel want anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just came to see how we’re holding up,” Richard explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?” Grace prompts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard glances down at her, his expression reading ‘what do I do with you?’ “</span>
  <em>
    <span>And</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he pauses, “we’re moving out again. Going back to our old position.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you say </span>
  <em>
    <span>old, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>yesterday’s old?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Grace raises a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Grace, yesterday’s old,” he replies. “If it makes you feel better, we might finally have an idea of what we’re going to face in Foy. So, I don’t think it’ll be long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, that's wonderful news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shortly thereafter, most of Easy Company return to their old position even closer to Foy, leaving only a few members behind to help strengthen the lines of resistance alongside Dog Company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they enter the area that housed them until the day before, Grace can't help but hold her breath for longer than her lungs allow. A lot of the trees have been blown away, burst by the artillery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit fuck,” she mutters, her eyes surveying the surface as she tries not to stumble over the abandoned foxholes and the tips of the trees that are blocking her passage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow falls slowly but in large quantities, and it would seem almost romantic if it didn't make her feel like a spectator who's forced to attend a terrible show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace and Martin find a hole just along the invisible line that divides them and the forest from the enemy. She's now a front row spectator, what luck. They must try to fortify their foxholes as much as possible, with pieces of broken logs and foliage, with whatever they can get their hands on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Johnny,” Grace tells him, jumping out the finished hole, “I’m gonna look for a chunk of wood to build ourselves a sort of roof.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good idea, go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace walks among the men, who have suddenly become like carpenters, intent on building their safety homes. She almost chuckles at the thought, shaking her head soon after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kid,” someone calls her and she has no doubt who that is, because there’s only one person in the whole company who calls her that. “Lost something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m looking for a solid branch to cover up my foxhole,” she tells Guarnere, who was also intent on covering his hole with some foliage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guarnere gives her a mocking smirk. “Looks like you’re spoiled for choice,” he says, motioning his hands all around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't have time to answer before a loud blast echoes through the air and someone yells at the top of their voice, “Incoming!” She's quick to leap into the foxhole with Guarnere. Malarkey comes out of nowhere, she hadn't even seen him nearby, but when he throws himself into the hole he involuntarily crushes her calf and Grace finds herself stifling a scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Incoming! Take over!” Lipton zigzags between the foxholes and the broken trees, urging his men to seek shelter, to save themselves as much as possible. “Find some cover! Find a foxhole! Come on, take cover!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They're 88s!” someone else screams, and Grace has no trouble believing they're hammering them with anti-aircraft guns, now that the Americans are closer to them than ever, the Germans are determined to take them out with everything they can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noise of the artillery hitting the ground is so loud, Grace knows it's stupid but it sounds even louder than usual, that she crushes her ears with her palms so hard they hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm gonna be a shady lady bird, I've got an awful lot to learn, but if you tell me that my heart's on fire, I'm gonna let it burn,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Grace sings feebly, her voice broken by fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes are fixed on the sky, a harrowing spectacle of lights, snow, smoke, and where has the sky gone? The explosions are louder and louder, not even her hands are able to dampen that noise, it's as if it echoes inside Grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glances at her side, where Guarnere is looking at her strangely. He’s saying something, but she can’t quite catch what it is so she just squeezes her eyes shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I'm gonna be a shady lady bird, I hope the payment is deferred, or if the fly back's simply to my first, you'll find the worst has not occurred, that's because I've never been a shady lady bird.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the noise stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that sudden silence, Grace can hear her heart pounding faster than ever and her breathing broken, almost as if she had just finished a twenty mile run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slowly removes her palms from her ears, and as soon as she opens her eyes she finds Malarkey's frown about two inches from her nose. He doesn't say anything, but when he realises that Grace is unharmed, he raises his head over the hole to see what's going on outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should see if anybody’s hit,” he says, while Grace positions herself with difficulty between him and Guarnere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, Malark, that’s what they want,” Guarnere replies, also craning his neck to try and see what’s happening out there. “Krauts will try to draw us out in the open,” then he looks at his left, where Grace has her chin rested on her hands. “You alright there, kid?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” she says, “apart from my calf hurting like a son of a bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Malarkey says awkwardly, remembering he’s landed on her leg the moment he jumped into the foxhole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace elbows him, letting him know it’s okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that back there?” Guarnere continues. “That a new prayer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A song,” Malarkey answers for her. “She always does that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it keeps me awake somehow, like, alert,” Grace explains. “Helps me concentrate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re an odd one, kid,” Guarnere tells her, a hint of pride in his voice. “Never change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment Grace turns to him to answer, a distant cry for help catches her attention. It was inevitable that someone had been wounded after such a deluge of artillery. People </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>get wounded during barrages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys hear that?” Malarkey asks them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace hears it loud and clear, and before she has time to figure out who that might be, Guarnere’s alarmed tone cuts off her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that Joe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks, her heart starting to pound loudly again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That does sound like Toye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think that’s Joe,” Malarkey confirms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay,” Guarnere commands them, bouncing out the hole without second thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re nuts! Get back here!” Grace shouts. “Bill!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Guarnere gives no sign of hearing her and within seconds he disappears among the remains of the trees. Grace can't help but feel her fear hammering in her chest and brain as she hears Lipton and Buck ordering everyone to stand still in their holes. They've lived long enough in that hell to know it might not be over yet, and their worried shouts almost sound like confirmation that the forest will soon be shelled again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it over?” Malarkey asks, fear betraying him in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Incoming!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Definitely not.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace crawls to the bottom of the hole again, flattening to the ground as if that could help her in case the foxhole gets hit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obviously her experience with Stevenson has taught her that even if you’re a metre underground, if your foxhole is hit... that's it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malarkey clings to Grace's arm and the two remain embraced until the end of the second barrage, which seems to last even longer than the first one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence returns, but both Grace and Malarkey remain still attached to each other for at least five minutes before they can declare that they can leave safely without risking another wave of bombs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Grace says, reaching for her rifle and hopping out the foxhole. “Let’s go see if Bill found Joe, if they’re okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't waste time exploring around to see the damage done to the forest, instead she looks for signs of men in distress and in need for help, or faces of friends safe and sound, or...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shock brings a frightening quietness within, a moment when Grace feels her emotions change gear abruptly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Guarnere and Toye are alive in front of her, both missing a leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace feels the bile scrambling to get out, but with an unknown strength she manages to push it back. She thought she’d never see anything more terrifying than Stevenson blown to pieces, but this is close second. Roe is crouched next to Toye, as he somehow tries to stop the blood spurting from his severed leg. Malarkey immediately rushes to their aid, kneeling next to Toye and helping him much as he can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guarnere is crawling slowly towards a tree, his leg mangled from the knee down, probably only attached by a small piece of flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has no words to describe what she's feeling in this moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Toye protests in pain, “what’s a guy gotta do to get killed around here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace's eyes wander hopelessly between Toye and Guarnere, and the only thing she can think of is that at least they're undeniably luckier than Hoobler.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace, get your ass over here,” Toye babbles, motioning her to come closer. Grace does, still unable to utter a single word, then kneels next to Malarkey as Toye pulls something out of his pocket and shoves it in her hands. A knife. A German knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns the knife in her hands, moving her fingers slowly from the handle to the blade, almost caressing it gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A German gravity knife,” Grace murmurs almost to herself, her voice comes out broken, pricking her throat. “A paratrooper’s knife.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, keep it,” he tells her between groans. “Don’t need it anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace tries hard to keep her gaze on the knife and not on her friend's wrecked leg. She then decides that her presence is completely useless there, that both Roe and Malarkey are tending to Toye adequately on their own, so she slips the knife in her pocket and heads towards Guarnere - not that the sight of his leg is more pleasant nor that she can somehow help him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Grace,” he sighs, both his hands on his knee. “Looks like that’s it for your brother Bill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace ignores the last part of the sentence. “You called me Grace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, because you had me doubting there for a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can't believe that even in this terrible circumstance, he can manage to find a way to make her smile. Guarnere's expression looks calm on the surface, but she can read the pain in his eyes and in his movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's a very strong man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything-” Grace starts, her hands moving over his body as if they’re looking for something to touch, to fix. “Are you in pain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I feel better than one would think,” he blurts out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill, you go first,” Grace hears Roe’s voice, and when she turns to him, she spots men coming in with a stretcher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, Doc,” Guarnere nods, still looking at his screwed up leg. “Whatever you say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace makes room for the men, who take her friend’s weight and place him on the stretcher. Guarnere groans in pain and a scared expression appears on her face, an expression she’s never seen on him before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men lift him up, but he grabs Grace’s wrist before they can take him away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stay safe, kid. Stay safe. I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you. And I don’t wanna see you in hospitals either, you hear me? Just- keep being you, and everything’s gonna be alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lump forms in Grace’s throat and almost blocks her airways, but she manages to push it away with a struggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise you, Bill,” Grace nods, taking his hand and massaging it gently. “Brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guarnere gives her one last look before letting the men take him away, a look that Grace doesn’t think she will ever be able to wash away from her memories. And she feels guilty for making him a promise she's not sure she can keep - not that it's up to her, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn’t take her eyes off her friend until he completely disappears from her sight, while Toye is still gasping on the ground, smoking a cigarette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that's war taking two other comrades, two brothers. Grace keeps repeating to herself like a mantra that at least they're alive, at least she will have a chance to see them again someday in the future, if she ends this war unscathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Hoobler she will never have that chance again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace has lost two more mentors, and Easy Company has lost two popular and tough soldiers. How many more will it have to lose?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace's eyelids burn when she blinks, because for an endless time her eyes were fixed on the void, unable to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz suddenly appears in her field of vision, his face twisted; she doesn't remember ever seeing him so miserable, with long and greasy hair and beard that he has never had before. His eyes exude sadness, fatigue, despair and many other sensations that don't suit him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace can no longer restrain herself, so she slowly throws her arms around his neck and rests her head on his chest. He surrounds her with his arms, and holds her tight, so tightly that for a moment she feels safe. She feels like nothing and no one, not even another barrage of artillery, could damage her right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, in her lover’s arms, she reflects on all the effort she's putting into not giving up.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello my friends!<br/>Last week we said goodbye to Hoobler, today we say goodbye to Toye and Guarnere :( BUT, don't despair, they might come back at some point... somehow!<br/>There's no particular info to share about this chapter, just the song Grace sings during the barrage is Shady Lady Bird by the wonderful Peggy Lee!<br/>I hope you liked this chapter, and see you next week with the most sad and heartbreaking and angst thing I've ever written in my 17 years as a fanfiction writer. Yeah.<br/>Have a lovely day!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Ballad of Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much Angie for your support and help and for everything, really ♥<br/>This is it, guys.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>"You don't have a chance, when your friends go down, to really take care of them as you might. And especially if you're under attack, moving or whatever, and... I withstood it well, but I had a lot of trouble in later life... because those events would come back... and you never forget them."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- Donald Malarkey</em>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>January 9th, Foy.</b>
</p>
<p>Grace thinks back when her parents took her to church the first time. It was Sunday mass, the priest with a funny nose and his hands always in the air as if reaching for something, talking for about an hour.</p>
<p>She was five.</p>
<p>She remembers the priest going on and on about the place where people go when they die; maybe it was a funeral, as it happens Grace doesn't remember it very well, after all.</p>
<p>The man preached about death being only a transition: the individual, the personality and the memories die, disappear forever, but the soul moves on. Souls come from God and therefore they return to Him when it's time, ready to be reborn, he said.</p>
<p>Now Grace remembers: it was her nana's funeral and the priest said they should be happy for her, happy that she's moving on to a new adventure. But how could Grace be happy when the only person on earth who ever showed her some love died? She wanted her back, she didn't want her nana going on a stupid adventure with her stupid soul in a stupid place.</p>
<p>Grace has never believed any of that. When you die, you die. You don't exist. There's no place, no adventure, no transition. Nothing.</p>
<p>But at that very moment, in the moment Grace sees her closest friend becoming dust, for some reason she wants to believe it all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Two hours earlier…</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>“All this digging over the past year has got me practicing for when I'll be gardening back home. I'll make a vegetable garden so perfect, that even the best professionals will kiss my ass!”</p>
<p>Grace lets out a chortle of delight, shoveling some dirt in Talbert’s direction.</p>
<p>“Asshole.”</p>
<p>Grace is tired, but what’s new. At least now it’s due to a tangible reason, as Easy Company has been quite busy in the past few days. After clearing out the woods east of Foy, the whole 506th has also been active clearing the woods west of Foy. All nice and tidy, ready for the attack on Foy itself, which is the only thing that separates the Airborne from a well-deserved break. And hopefully some peace, too.</p>
<p>Grace doesn't think it was a stroll in the park, but not even as tough as so many had predicted, especially after losing valuable soldiers - like Toye and Guarnere, both respectable sergeants in 2nd Platoon and definitely irreplaceable.</p>
<p>But at least now it's almost time for the actual attack on Foy, and Grace craves the idea of leaving this place once and for all. So, even though she's tired, hurt, exhausted, hungry, all in all her mood is slightly brighter than usual.</p>
<p>“Isn't Luz jealous of you bunking in with me?” Talbert asks at some point, making Grace almost lose her grip on the shovel.</p>
<p>“Why would he?” she blurts out, digging even faster. “He’s never been jealous of me sharing a foxhole with you all.”</p>
<p>Talbert shrugs, stopping his work as he leans against the foxhole side to rest. “Hasn’t he?” he says, his tone slightly mischievous. “If you look closely into his face whenever he's around you, you'll catch a glimpse of a certain green-eyed monster.”</p>
<p>Grace is not sure how much Talbert knows - or how much <em>anyone </em>knows, really - but she would rather stay quiet about it, if she’s honest. She herself struggles with the whole situation, and the last thing she needs is people mocking her or Luz about it. Of course she knows that they don't do it maliciously, on the contrary, and perhaps in other circumstances that don't include Belgian snowy forests and dead friends, she would go along with it too.</p>
<p>“Do me a favour, Floyd,” she suggests, pausing her shoveling to look at him in the eyes. “Stop using your downstairs brain, and get back to work.”</p>
<p>Talbert lets out a loud cackle of laughter, and Grace is convinced she's never heard him laugh so hard at something she said. Thanks to the dim light of dusk, he's unable to notice the small smirk that for a moment danced on her lips.</p>
<p>All the while until they finally manage to finish their foxhole, Grace is positive that she heard Talbert muttering 'downstairs brain' several times and then laughing under his breath.</p>
<p>Grace takes out a chocolate bar and eats it slowly even though she's very hungry, but she has convinced herself that if she eats slower it's as if she’s eating more. Penkala said it's a stupid and nonsense theory, and he's absolutely right, but Grace is stubborn and proud and she certainly won’t give in.</p>
<p>“Can I tell you something a bit embarrassing?” Talbert breaks the silence.</p>
<p>Grace nods. “Yes, please, make me laugh at you.”</p>
<p>“Ha-ha,” he mocks her, sticking out his tongue. “I- during the barrage earlier, I found myself singing.”</p>
<p>Well, that’s surely something Grace didn’t expect to hear.</p>
<p>“What did you sing?”</p>
<p>“You Brought A New Kind of Love To Me,” Talbert says a little hesitantly, as if seeking her approval.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m flattered,” Grace takes a hand on her heart, fluttering her eyelashes.</p>
<p>“Now who’s thinking with their downstairs brain?” he raises a brow as Grace bursts out laughing. “It’s the song, by Maurice Chevalier?”</p>
<p>“Great song,” Grace nods. “Great movie, too.”</p>
<p>They spend some time chatting, and Grace thinks it’s nice talking about harmless things such as music and movies once in a while. She doesn't tell Talbert this, but she feels quite grateful that he's stopped teasing her about her bizarre obsession of doing karaoke during warfare, and is now following her suit.</p>
<p>“Why did you do it?” Grace asks eventually. He stares at her for a moment with a puzzled look, then she continues. “Did it help you? Singing.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Talbert says, glazing onto the ground. “I don’t know. I was thinking about the song before it happened, and then I found myself muttering the words with bombs making a lovely soundtrack.”</p>
<p>Grace smirks, then gets herself into a more comfortable position.</p>
<p>If she thinks about it, she can't remember the first time she started this sort of ritual during a fight. It's definitely not a special tactic taught to her by SOE, nor by the Maquis, but she's pretty sure that the tradition started with Hannah; Grace used to sing a lot with Hannah, mainly <em>The Object of My Affection</em> by The Boswell Sisters because it was Hannah's all time favorite song. She used to say it made her happy, and consequently made Grace happy too.</p>
<p>Grace smiles to herself, thinking back at that time they also made a fool of themselves by dancing to the same song at Hannah’s brother’s birthday party.</p>
<p>Maybe it's an absurd thought, but Grace wonders if it’s bad to think that, once all of this is over, she won't want to try to erase <em>all</em> the war-related memories of these last five years.</p>
<p>Suddenly her mind travels to Luz, but Grace is no longer surprised about that. It happens often.</p>
<p>As she looks up, she sees Luz walking a short distance from her, with Malarkey almost trotting next to him.</p>
<p>Grace informs Talbert she’s going for a walk, and then reaches her friends - who in the meantime have been joined by Muck and Penkala.</p>
<p>“Hey, boys,” she salutes them, feeling like a sort of drunken smirk forming on her lips. “Were you planning on a reunion without me?”</p>
<p>“As a matter of fact, yes,” Muck rolls his eyes, pretending to be annoyed but his voice betrays him. An acting career wouldn’t suit him at all. “You’re always in the way, I mean, let us breathe.”</p>
<p>Grace pouts like a five year old kid who’s been deprived of her toys, as she feels Malarkey circling her with his arms and giving her a quick hug.</p>
<p>Muck hurries to give her a wink, to let her know he was joking, but Grace doesn't need reassurance because she already knows.</p>
<p>“Apparently Luz was about to tell us something funny,” Penkala informs her, glancing at Luz as if he’s impatient to know the story.</p>
<p>Luz nods in agreement, his eyes scanning the craving audience as if trying to see if they're alert and ready for his show. Grace's intuition tells her that she already knows what he's going to say, because she too witnessed <em>the scene</em>. It was anything but funny, Grace would probably call it <em>terrifying</em>, but she knows Luz will make it fun with one of his usual, flawless impressions.</p>
<p>“You fellas know I got no reason to bullshit you, right?” he starts, and they’re all already laughing because it’s impossible not to with him. “Look, this is what I saw. It was so unbelievable you might not believe me. Actually, Grace was there with me, so she can confirm my story.”</p>
<p>Grace nods, hiding her hands in her pockets.</p>
<p>“You-know-who comes running up to Lipton. He’s got no helmet, no gear, no nothing,” Luz says, then his face takes on that funny expression he always makes before imitating someone, that grimace as if he thought he was turning into the victim themselves. “‘1st Sergeant Lipton, you organise things here, I’m gonna go for... help.’” They all start to laugh out loud, as a matter of fact they never stopped but now it’s like a concert of genuine, happy laughter. “‘I need to go polish my oak leaf clusters.’”</p>
<p>That’s precisely what happened, except for the oak leaf clusters part - but Grace has no doubt that Dike would have thought eactly that.</p>
<p>During the last barrage that afternoon, Grace was quietly talking to Lipton, when at one point a roar announced the beginning of yet another bombardment. Grace had jumped into the first available foxhole, and Luz was already there; he had taken her and held her to him as if that gesture would keep her safe.</p>
<p>After the interminable chaos was finally finished, Grace and Luz had looked out of the hole to try and get a picture of the situation; Lipton had been yelling at his men to stay still, to not come out of their shelter for anything in the world, as he always does. Grace wholeheartedly hoped that everyone had the intelligence to listen to him, to avoid a Toye-Guarnere 2.0.</p>
<p>And then the whole thing with Dike happened. And the rest is history, a story that Grace is genuinely sick of having to see or hear every single day, the story of their ghost commander. Her and Luz had the time to exchange the most exasperated and bewildered look, before being swamped by another shelling once again.</p>
<p>The boys are still laughing, and she finds herself laughing too because Luz’s impression of Dike had been impeccable.</p>
<p>“Hey, Luz,” Lipton’s voice interrupts their fun, nodding for Luz to follow him.</p>
<p>As if he'd just been caught stealing candy, Luz nods guiltily and walks away towards the sergeant, not before winking at Grace.</p>
<p>“Complete asshole,” Muck comments all of a sudden, shaking his head.</p>
<p>“You mean Dike or Luz?” Penkala smirks.</p>
<p>“Both.”</p>
<p>They all find themselves hit by another round of laughter, as they walk away from where Luz and Lipton are talking.</p>
<p>“Good night, all,” Malarkey waves his hand, then quickly slips it back into his pocket. It's particularly cold that evening, but that's nothing new. As Grace watches him go all wrapped up and shivering, both hands in his pockets and his neck tucked as far into his jacket as possible, she wonders what she will feel the first time she takes a hot bath after months of absolute freezing and stinking.</p>
<p>“Gonna head back to Tab,” Grace announces to Muck and Penkala, who are both shivering like a leaf. “Don’t wanna have him think I got lost or something.”</p>
<p>Muck scoffs, elbowing her gently. “I miss snuggling up to you in foxholes.”</p>
<p>“Argh, me too, man,” Grace sighs, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the one who gives the best cuddles.”</p>
<p>Both of them laugh warmly. “Then stop going off with Johnny and Floyd!” Muck erupts with way too much energy. “There’s always room for you in our foxholes!”.</p>
<p>“Alright, alright,” Grace chuckles, shaking her head. “I’m dumping Tab first thing in the morning.”</p>
<p>“That music to my ears,” Muck says, squeezing her shoulder. “Love you, see you later.”</p>
<p>“Night night, Grace,” Penkala waves at her.</p>
<p>“Good night, lovelies.”</p>
<p>A loud noise breaks the quietness of the night, growling like a mad lion. And then the explosion tears through the air as if it was intent on shattering the universe by ripping apart every atom.</p>
<p>Here we go again.</p>
<p>It's too late for Grace to try and reach Talbert, so she doesn't think twice before throwing herself into the first foxhole within reach.</p>
<p>She jumps in with Muck and Penkala.</p>
<p>The exact moment she drops herself into the foxhole, she realises to her horror that Luz is out there. He's there, a few meters from them, she can see him as he’s striving through the snow, surrounded by explosions.</p>
<p>“Luz!” both Muck and Penkala yell. “Luz, come on! Hurry!”</p>
<p>“Luz!” Grace shouts, her voice reaches a high pitch because she can't contain the fear.</p>
<p>But it seems like Luz has given up trying to get up because he stumbles each time, for some reason he's struggling to move and he’s crawling in the snow, and Grace is worried sick because all around him the area is being bombed big time.</p>
<p>Grace doesn’t doublethink what she’s about to do.</p>
<p>She promised everyone she would never run out of her foxhole during a barrage ever again, but this is Luz, and Luz is more important than every promise in the world.</p>
<p>Grace musters up courage and pushes up from the ground.</p>
<p>She runs forward towards Luz, the adrenaline kicking in making her feel like her legs are moving way faster than they usually do. Splinters whizz through the air over her head, her heart beats in her chest, pounding, banging, trying to get out. She runs forward, every second barely escaping death, she feels as though her blood is on fire. Her limbs are moving on their own. She's disconnected from everything but the ever present sound of her drumming heart.</p>
<p>“Luz!” she screams as she reaches him, helping him stand up. “Come on! Let’s go!”</p>
<p>Luz looks at her as if he just saw an angel descended to earth. She can’t help but give him an apologetic look, then she glances back to Muck and Penkala to let them know they’re managing, that they will be reaching them soon.</p>
<p>But as soon as her eyes meet Muck, they disappear.</p>
<p>Grace blinks, trying to make sense of what just happened.</p>
<p>The shock begins to pump through her veins as the loose cloud of dirt and smoke dissolves into the air, showing her an empty foxhole. Shards of ash flutter delicately above it, almost as if someone had just thrown a handful of confetti.</p>
<p>The confetti is Muck and Penkala.</p>
<p>Her mind is reeling, unable to comprehend or process what her eyes are seeing. Grace closes her eyes, then opens them again to see if the image is still there.</p>
<p>It is.</p>
<p>
  <em>No… no…</em>
</p>
<p>Time seems to have stopped around her, it keeps rewinding the tape and making Grace relive the last moments of her friends' life in loop. They were there, and then they were gone.</p>
<p>It’s as if an invisible hand had taken them and moved their bodies elsewhere. But Grace knows this is not the case, she has seen life fly out of her best friend's eyes once again. She witnessed the moment when those eyes dissolved into the air, he probably didn't even realise that he just embarked on a one way journey.</p>
<p>Grace witnessed Death taking over people she loves once again.</p>
<p>Grace stares hopelessly into the void, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to think beside the fact that this time her recklessness saved her life. If she hadn't been so impulsive and waited for Luz to reach them by himself, she would be ashes in the wind now too.</p>
<p>Ashes in the wind, that’s what Muck and Penkala are now.</p>
<p>Who knows what it feels like to no longer exist.</p>
<p>
  <em>Love you, see you later.</em>
</p>
<p>The temperature is below zero as per usual, but in this moment Grace feels a fire burning inside her, spreading all over her organs and taking over her brain; she feels sweaty, just like when you have a high fever and feel the need to put a wet cloth on your forehead to try and cool it down.</p>
<p>Time takes over again, and without taking her eyes off the spot where Muck and Penkala vanished, she realises she’s being swept away by someone. A few seconds later she’s crumpled in a foxhole. When they both roll ungraciously into the hole, she finds herself on top of someone hugging her very tightly and she doesn't need to check to know it's Luz.</p>
<p>All around them the forest is still suffering from the shelling, and even though the noise is unbearable, it can't overcome the buzz in Grace’s head; it's louder, more painful, more oppressive. Instinct tells her to punch herself in the head to try to make it stop, but she doesn't even have the energy to lift a finger.</p>
<p>Grace feels Luz squeeze her even tighter, he always does when they find themselves together during an attack. He holds her as if his arms were metal and capable of protecting her from anything.</p>
<p>There's an eerie silence to Grace's soul: it's like a void, a never ending dark void that consumes everything, that leaves Grace feeling nothing. Empty.</p>
<p>Grace wonders if feeling empty is not really <em>being</em> empty. Emotions are like true weights that sit on you, alternating between one another, just like how air pressure sits on every single individual, but no one really notices. But when the bad, awful emotions take over, maybe that weight drops off giving you the illusion you're empty. But maybe the truth is you're just full of the wrong feelings.</p>
<p>All Grace knows is that in this very moment her soul and chest feels emptied for real, she doesn't feel sad, or angry, or anything, she just feels nothingness. She used to feel invincible, now she’s just a cookie left sinking in milk for too long.</p>
<p>Melted. Lousy. Useless.</p>
<p>“They’re gone,” Grace whispers to herself. “They’re gone, they’re gone.”</p>
<p>Luz doesn’t say a thing, he probably hasn’t even heard through all the noise.</p>
<p>“Skip is gone. Skip… is gone.”</p>
<p>Suddenly it all stops. The bombs, the pounding, even the breathing.</p>
<p>Grace is too busy trying to get her lungs to work again, that she barely notices the shell falling half a meter away from them.</p>
<p>This is it.</p>
<p>Everything around her goes to mute, the only thing she can hear is her own heartbeat. She will finally be able to leave all the pain behind. Grace closes her eyes, after all she's ready to die. Her fragile, human heart will beat one last time.</p>
<p>It’s sad, but almost romantic dying in the arms of the man you love.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grace didn’t die, but she wishes she did.</p>
<p>She feels like her body won’t be able to contain all the pain pumping through her veins, swarming her organs and heart, so she might as well hope that the bomb had gone off.</p>
<p>Emptiness is finally being filled with many painful emotions.</p>
<p>The pain takes over her brain like a train; it's the sort of pain that burns, as if some invisible flame is being held against her skin. The emotions of loss are that way. Death and abandonment, they all lead there. Grace had felt it before, with Henri, Hannah, Hoobler, too many people to think of. But for whatever reason, this is the first time she feels… completely, utterly incomplete.</p>
<p>She's huddled on the edge of the foxhole that was the last home of her friends. Her best friend, Muck.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh, Skip.</em>
</p>
<p>Her position is so uncomfortable that her knees hurt awfully, but she doesn't care because no physical pain can ever overcome what she's feeling inside her head and chest right now. She can't even bring herself to cry, and she feels guilty because the last thing she wants is to be numb to her friends' death.</p>
<p>The more Grace's eyes scan the hole for something, anything, the less things she can see; there's only dirt and snow, no trace of her friends. Not a particle. She had expected a daunting sight like Stevenson a few weeks earlier, but instead the bomb had been so precise that it left no mark, almost as if it wanted to erase any trace of Muck and Penkala off the map.</p>
<p>Grace selfishly thinks maybe it's for the best, because she doesn't know if she would have been strong enough to look at the lifeless body of the person she most cared for in the world. She's not sure if she would have stood the fact of being able to watch him, but not receiving any jokes back, no compliments, no ‘love yous’ from him. Nothing.</p>
<p>On the other hand, she thinks that their families would never have a body to bury. Faye Tanner would never have a Skip Muck to marry.</p>
<p>
  <em>Oh, Faye…</em>
</p>
<p>Either way, perhaps Grace should have stayed in the foxhole with Talbert, babbling about nonsense, so as to not witness her best friends’ death at all.</p>
<p>After yet another useless inspection of the foxhole, Grace notices something among a small mound of dirt - is it really dirt? - right next to her knee. Searching with her hands she finds an object.</p>
<p>Muck's black cross.</p>
<p>Grace takes Muck's necklace and turns it over in her hands, touching it gently as if she's afraid to ruin it. She sighs, thinking that not even a bomb managed to ruin it, in fact that's the only thing left of her friend, the only thing that survived.</p>
<p>“Grace.”</p>
<p>It’s Richard. He appears somewhere on her right, she can’t bring herself to raise her head. The black cross has all her attention.</p>
<p>“Grace,” Richard repeats, this time louder. “What are you doing?”</p>
<p>Grace doesn't respond, she continues to stare at the cross as her brain plays the last image of Muck over and over again, before that bomb took everything away from her. It plays his crooked smile as he told her, “Love you, see you later.”</p>
<p>
  <em>More like, see you never.</em>
</p>
<p>She then looks up at Richard, meeting his worried eyes. Grace would like to have the power to lend him her eyes for just a moment, just long enough to make him see things as she sees them and consequently understand what she's doing.</p>
<p>“What is it like?” Grace asks, blinking almost robotically. When Richard quirks up his eyebrow, she replies. “Praying.”</p>
<p>He looks dumbfounded for a moment, it's the last thing he expected to come out of Grace's mouth.</p>
<p>“Uhm, liberating?” he attempts, confused. “It feels good.”</p>
<p>“Do you think He truly listens to your prayers?”</p>
<p>“I like to think He does,” Richard explains kindly. Grace glances back at her hands again, the cross still there, now burning her skin. “I know you’re not a believer, Grace, but if you think saying a few words would help you, you should. I’m gonna stay with you, if you need me to.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, stay,” she nods coldly. “I do have a few things to say.”</p>
<p>Grace has never prayed in all her life, and she certainly doesn't think about starting now that the war has taken everything away from her. But she has to let some steam off, and who better than the number one rant listener?</p>
<p>“Okay, then…” she clears her throat, looking up at the sky. “Dear God, I guess. My friend tells me you’re always there ready to listen to what I have to say, so here I am. Trying. It’s been a hard time this past month. I’m not gonna dive into details because, as they say, you're always watching, so what’s the point? You already know what happened. You already know that about two weeks ago I almost lost my life to a bomb. I admit it would’ve been my fault, not gonna lie, I was reckless. But a fine guy named Stevenson exploded right beside me, and the nauseating stench of blood and flesh still tickles my nostrils and- and after all this time I don’t even know his name. Just his last name, Stevenson. And he just wanted to help me. Now, you might think it was brave of me, playing the hero, but it surely wasn’t.”</p>
<p>Grace takes a deep breath, thinking that if she were God she would probably have turned down the volume already.</p>
<p>“Then it was Hoobler’s turn to die. And what a fucking foolish way to go is that? Uh? They say you know everything, that you pull the strings, so tell me, what was the fucking point? He’s always been kind of clumsy, I’ll give you that, but if you wanted to give him a lesson, couldn’t you just have him shot in the ankle or something? Or was it yet another try to get to me, perhaps you planned that he would have shot me by accident but something went wrong.”</p>
<p>“And what about Bill and Joe?” Grace continues, her eyes never leaving the white sky once. “For fuck’s sake, even the same leg! They lost their legs, but at least it wasn’t their lives. But I lost them anyway, because they’re not here and who knows if I’ll ever be able to see them again. Then today… fuck, today was an agony to say the least, and you know what’s even worse? That we’re this close to put this goddamn forest behind us,<em> this close!</em> Skip hated this forest with every fibre of his being and you ended him here of all places. He was meant to get married to a beautiful lady, you know? She won’t even have a body to cry over. Skip and Penkala’s foxhole took a direct hit and they just, <em>puff</em>, blew into pieces. And now I’m here, but nothing’s left of them. Only ashes. And I don’t even know who to blame.”</p>
<p>Grace thinks of Muck and Penkala, both two gleeful and lovely and brave men, erased from Earth.</p>
<p>“So I’m wondering, all this time were you trying to kill <em>me </em>but failed, or were you just trying to make me live the worst period of my life? Let me tell you, if I hit the bullseye with the first one, damn, Lord, your aim is even worse than one can imagine. Or perhaps I just have a sort of aura around me that prevents me from dying? I'm a little ashamed to admit that, but that's exactly what I thought when a bomb fell next to me and it didn't even explode. I was ready to die, after seeing Skip fading into thin air, I was ready to go too, in the arms of the man I love. I wonder if you'll be so cruel to take that from me too. But here I am, feeling like a fool because I know very well that I'm just talking to the wind. But I needed it, so thank you anyway.” Grace’s grip on the cross hardens, then she shoves it into her front pocket as she struggles to stand up. “Amen.”</p>
<p>With one last look at Richard and a half grimace that was mostly meant to be a small smile, Grace walks past him but he suddenly stops her.</p>
<p>“Hey,” he tries, his hand resting gently on her arm. “Was it, then?” Richard asks, then when she gives him a puzzled look, he adds: “Liberating.”</p>
<p>Grace just shrugs. “I don’t believe in God, anyway.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A few minutes later, Grace finally finds the person she was looking for. The only person she wants to talk to right now - but she's content with sharing silence too, she has talked way too much in the past half an hour for her liking.</p>
<p>With a little hop she jumps into the foxhole and settles herself more or less comfortably, as her legs are still protesting the time she spent praying on her knees. Was it even praying, though? It was more like complaining with an amen at the end, but Grace is not going to apologise for that.</p>
<p>Grace says nothing, she pulls out the cross from her pocket and hands it to Malarkey, who until then had barely noticed her presence. Or rather, he was definitely aware of her next to him, but didn't feel like engaging a conversation.</p>
<p>Understandable, Grace can relate.</p>
<p>Sometimes silence is worth more than a speech, and Grace would have maintained her silence and they would have mourned their friend together, were it not that she knows that Muck would have wanted Malarkey to have his cross.</p>
<p>Malarkey takes it a little hesitantly, then looks up at Grace.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he just says, then his eyes move to it again, as if he’s trying to look for some of his friend in it.</p>
<p>Malarkey doesn’t take his eyes off the cross for at least ten minutes.</p>
<p>Grace has been friends with Muck for less than a year and the pain of his loss is inexplicable, no words have yet been invented to describe how she feels. She doesn't dare to think about what it's like for Malarkey, who has been his best friend for nearly three intense years. Earlier Grace only met his eyes for a second, but she was able to read all the things in them she herself feels and even more. However, he's not crying either or has signs that he cried at all.</p>
<p>He just stands there, staring at that damn cross as if hoping Muck would come out of it screaming "tadaaa!"</p>
<p>“I feel so apathetic I can’t even bring myself to cry,” Grace breaks the silence. Usually it’s Malarkey who breaks the silence, but not today. “I tried, you know.”</p>
<p>“What?” he asks feebly.</p>
<p>“Crying,” she explains. After their death, she tried in every way to cry with the only result of getting a massive headache, a hammer that continually banged against the wall of her brain preventing her from even thinking. “People say it’s freeing, that helps dealing with whatever. As if all the pain sticks to the tears and spills out of your eyes with them. But not a single tear has left my body in ages. Is that even normal?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Malarkey sighs, tightening himself in his jacket. “I guess. We all deal with loss differently.”</p>
<p>“Loss.” Grace still can’t believe she’s linking that word to Skip Muck. It seems stupid, but it’s like she spends so much time having turbulent thoughts, busying her brain with grief that at the end she almost forgets why she was having these emotions in the first place.</p>
<p>Then Muck and Penkala’s faces becoming one with air come to mind, and she remembers.</p>
<p>She remembers it all.</p>
<p>And it starts all over again.</p>
<p>As with Hoobler's death, Grace can't help but think of some memories shared with Muck in the time they've been friends. Gosh, how much she loved him... how much she loves him, still. He was one of the first people she bonded with, that was open minded enough to let his company be <em>contaminated</em> by a woman. Grace remembers his excitement when he found out she was an Andrews Sisters fan, it was the first time she had talked about music with anyone in a long time. The first time she sang in a long time, too. She remembers everything, from dinners together at the mess, to the Glenn Miller's concert, to the time spent laughing, fighting, to the time spent in foxholes chatting, to Muck who never judged her even when she told him the most gruesome things she had done in the past.</p>
<p>He never batted an eye, he always listened to her and loved her despite everything.</p>
<p>Grace manages to smile, before realising that she's so busy reliving memories of the past that it hasn't occurred to her that she won't be able to build more with him in the future.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what to do,” Malarkey blurts out all of a sudden, startling her from her messy thoughts. “What now?”</p>
<p>“I guess we just… leave the burning pain alone as far as we can. In time it will consume itself and let us move towards happier spaces,” Grace says, but she herself doesn’t know how much of that she believes. It’s something they used to teach her at SOE, when they taught their agents to deal with grief.</p>
<p>Gosh, Muck would hate this. If there really was a Heaven and Muck was there now, he would look out the window and see his best friends in that catatonic state; Grace can almost picture him as he throws his arms up in frustration, and yells at them to stop being so stupid. He would yell at them to treasure the good memories and even the bad ones they shared together, he would yell that he's fine there, smoking Lucky Strikes while he waits for them when their time comes.</p>
<p>“You know what?” Grace says, intertwining her arm with Malarkey’s. “We have each other. We’re going to be fine, eventually. We’re gonna take that fucking Foy, we'll show the Krauts once and for all what Americans are made of. We’re gonna kick their Jerry asses, and we’re gonna do it for Skip. Because it’s what he’d do.”</p>
<p>Malarkey takes her hand in his as an agreement.</p>
<p>“No one will ever replace the void Skip and Penky left in us,” Grace continues, her voice takes on a slightly shaky but at the same time decisive tone, “but we still got <em>us</em>. I will never leave you, Don.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Grace,” Malarkey gives her a sad smile and then gives her a peck on the head, holding her tight. “Yeah, thankfully we still got us.”</p>
<p>They spend some time like that, without uttering a single word. Total silence, and Grace doesn't mind.</p>
<p>Grace is not sure if Malarkey manages to fall asleep at some point, but his light, warm breath is blowing softly on her forehead. Grace untangles herself from the hug, puts her helmet back on and she exits the foxhole with a lazy hop. If only the helmet had the power to protect her from thoughts and not just from bullets...</p>
<p>Grace can't help but notice the calm and stillness that reigns in the woods that early morning, it's as if someone has turned off nature's giant switch. The men are also oddly silent, all desperate over the deaths of two of the most adored soldiers in the entire company. While she was looking for Malarkey earlier, Grace saw a good portion of them crying silently for their mates, and it's something she has never seen in months of fighting and death with Easy Company.</p>
<p>Grace reaches a place where no one seems to be around, she leans her back against a tree and lets herself slide down to the ground. She feels her eyes are heavy, heavy head, heavy limbs, chest on fire.</p>
<p>With an abrupt gesture, Grace frees herself from the helmet once again and tosses it to the side, then she does something she will probably bitterly regret in a few seconds, but she doesn't care.</p>
<p>Grace sinks her face completely into the snow and screams with all the air that her weak lungs can contain.</p>
<p>There's something in that shout, a pain behind it. Pain and anger, but especially anger. The anger is nothing but a shield for the pain, but the shield would clatter to the ground at some point and let the pain tumble out again. It's inevitable. It’s life.</p>
<p>Her lungs are burning, but she's not going to stop. She feels the urge to scream more than to eat and sleep. Her shout suffocated by the snow is probably imperceptible to her comrades, but it echoes everywhere inside of her, in her chest, in her ears, in her head.</p>
<p>Grace slams her hands into the snow hard and finally pulls herself up, tired as if she's been running a marathon, her head more rumbling than before.</p>
<p>It's true that Grace still has Malarkey, that Malarkey still has Grace, and that the two of them still have everyone else. But she can’t believe that Muck won’t be part of the picture anymore. It hurts, terribly, and she has never felt so alone and lost in all her life.</p>
<p>As expected, the cold air begins to freeze Grace's soaked face, but this somehow manages to keep at bay the burning fire she's been feeling inside since the night before.</p>
<p>There on her knees, lifeless and with her face damp from the snow, Grace can’t help but think this is probably more effective than a cry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"I didn't cry after learning Skip Muck was dead. That would come later. Much later. Not that it didn't hurt. Hell, I'd never felt pain so deep.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He was like my brother. No, closer than my brother. But by January 9, when he'd died in a shelling about one hundred yards east of where I was, I was too mentally numb to really react. Too tired. I didn't sleep a wink for two nights after Roe broke the news to me. And after seeing Toye and Guarnere carted off, and Compton leaving, it was like dumping ice on a guy who was already frozen stiff.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>But the main reason I didn't crumble at his death is I couldn't. That wasn't allowed. With Compton gone, I realized I had to step up and lead. After Guarnere went down, Winters had promoted me to permanent sergeant status. Now, Buck was gone.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>From day one, you're taught that the good of the whole is more important than just you. That you can't let your emotions get in the way of the task at hand. So like a doctor who deals with pain and death each day, you just bury it somewhere deep down inside, thinking it'll go away on its own."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>- Donald Malarkey</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><b>Goodbye Muck and Penkala, I truly loved writing about you ♥</b><br/>Well, that was it. I don't know how I feel about posting this, as I said on tumblr I made myself cry while writing it... probably the most angst thing I've ever written in 17 years as a fanfiction writer. Skip is one of my favourite characters, and I learned to love him even more while reading Malarkey's book last year. And writing about his death had me -- dunno, I just felt a little bit empty just like Grace.<br/>I swear to god I wish I could erase this chapter and write about them going for a pint instead.<br/>I truly hope you liked it, though, it'd mean a lot to me. There'll be other sad chapters but definitely NOT like this one, I can promise you that! Mostly because I don't think I could handle writing more angst after this HAHAH ops.<br/>I wish you all a lovely day!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. I Did What I Had To Do</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you Angie for helping me out as always! Ily :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way, he had a boogie style that no one else could play.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace is walking behind Liebgott, putting her feet exactly in the footprints her friend leaves with each step, as she used to do with Richard when they were kids. For some reason, which could  either be the fatigue or the fact that she just lost her friend, she finds it particularly difficult to put one foot in front of the other and walk. Grace’s body feels the same sensations as it did when she did that 400km hell of a bike ride a few years back, while she was trying to reconnect with London because her radioman, fearing being captured, had destroyed all the codes. It was an imprudent choice, which is not unusual of her, but at least it served its purpose - costing Grace three days in bed to regain her strength. And now her body is suffering with that same combination of mental and physical exhaustion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Grace wouldn’t give right now to take a bike ride rather than staggering through a Belgian forest, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Easy Company is advancing towards the town of Foy, at last. After almost a month of unpleasant and multiple daily attacks, the day everyone was anxiously awaiting has finally almost arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He was the top man at his craft, but then his number came up and he was gone with the draft,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Grace keeps singing faintly, the words come out of her mouth almost like a whisper, audible only to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace,” someone calls her from behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He's in the army now, a blowin' reveille,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she continues as the person reaches her. Grace doesn’t look up. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace,” Lipton repeats a little hesitant, coming right alongside her. “Who’s from Company B?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace shrugs. “Some guy in this Andrews Sisters’ song.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, gotcha,” Lipton says, attempting a smile. “How are you holding up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like everybody else, I guess,” she replies, fixing the rifle better on her shoulder. For some reason it keeps sliding off and it’s becoming rather irritating - above many other irritating things currently going on. “How about you, First Sergeant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just can’t wait for this to be over,” he says. Grace can relate. “It might not seem like it, but I’m dreading this attack, for quite a few reasons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace looks up to the sergeant for the first time since he joined her. Lipton looks so very tired, and she can indeed read concern in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile they have reached the edge of the forest, from which Grace can see the silhouettes of the houses as well as the Germans running up and down; they probably know that something is coming their way and, cruel as it might seem, Grace can't wait to put a few bullets in some of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few days now, something has changed in her: it's not a new sensation, rather it's an old one, and it's awakening in Grace memories and feelings that she thought she had put aside. The fact is, there are times when she feels empty, when she could come face to face with the enemy and kill them instantly without batting an eye or vice versa: the enemy could end her, and she wouldn't care. Then there are moments when Grace is shrouded in fear because she doesn't know what to expect from the future. Even the last few certainties have been shattered the moment Muck’s foxhole got a direct hit with him in it, and this created an imbalance in her that at the moment only Luz is able to fill. Luz and those strong feelings they have for each other, and when he's around her, she feels guilty for feeling so indifferent to death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he's not there, indifference takes another step forward, as if it had been there lurking all along, waiting for Grace to be alone again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you gonna be leading 2nd Platoon tomorrow?” Grace asks, as she leans against a tree. She feels her body rebel against any attempt to stay on her feet and wonders with what strength she will be able to face tomorrow’s offensive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lipton presses his lips together, nodding. “Yeah, it’s the weakest at the moment. Malarkey could use some extra help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lump forms in her throat at the hearing of his name. After Muck's death, Grace tried as much as possible to seek comfort in Malarkey and he did the same with her, but the fact is that after losing Guarnere and Toye and Penkala and with Compton now out of the game too, the full weight of 2nd Platoon fell onto Malarkey’s shoulders. So between that and preparing for the upcoming attack, they didn't have much time to be there for one another and that weighed on Grace more than anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he could use some help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?” Lipton tries. “Are you feeling any better after...?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace forces a smile. “I’ll be honest with you, right now I don’t think I will feel better ever again. But apart from that, I have a clear mind to fight. I can't wait to get out of these woods, Lip, so tomorrow I'll give one hundred percent out there no matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Grace, I know how close you two were,” he tells her, an apologetic look on his face as if it was his fault that Muck was gone. “But I’m glad to hear that you’re ready to fight, still.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lipton rests a hand on Grace’s shoulder and squeezes it a little, before walking away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Grace told Lipton is true: even though her mind is in constant struggle, especially after losing Muck, she feels ready to fight. She can't wait to unleash all her pain and her anger, she can't wait for the adrenaline to flow into her body like a raging river. It might sound crazy, but Grace is convinced that tomorrow's attack will be good for both her physical and mental state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Germans will regret all the hell they put Easy Company through during the last month.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace clenches her fists. Muck and Penkala's murderer is there, and she will do anything in her power to make him pay for what he took from her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Grace turns to Dike, she finds him yawning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By his dumb expression, he's probably thinking that today's attack is going to be a piece of cake. That, or he's really tired. Grace imagines that walking up and down the forest doing nothing must be tiring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still can't believe that Dike will be leading them today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One thing Grace believes, though, is that if she loses other friends because of that incompetent officer, she won't think twice about throttling him with her bare hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there's one thing Grace misses about SOE, it's certainly her rank as captain. With that, Grace was free to get rid of inefficient officers or simple agents at any time, without asking anyone's permission. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Technically</span>
  </em>
  <span> she didn’t have the last word, but her superiors trusted her judgment so much that whatever she suggested, they agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, that used to happen most of the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now there’s a tiny detail that doesn’t allow her to do that: this is the U.S. Army, and she’s no longer a captain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace brings her attention back to her rifle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace,” Richard’s voice suddenly interrupts her thoughts. He crouches up next to her, smiling softly. “You ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace nods. “I am,” she says, as she finishes polishing her weapon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already know the drill?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup, Foley was very clear about the whole plan earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jack Foley has been Peacock's replacement ever since the latter had gone on a month furlough. Although he’s a lieutenant who got his jump wings just a couple of months prior and who hasn’t seen combat yet, somehow Grace trusts him and his judgment. He's a fine soldier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay, Grace?” Richard then asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace looks up to him, smiling softly even though she’s fed up with people asking how she’s doing. “No, I’m not. But I’m ready for combat. Oh, quit that look!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard transforms his worried look to an apologetic one, just as Lipton did the day before, as he finally sits down next to her. Grace can tell he’s worried, he's always worried, even if he tries in vain to hide it from her. But she knows him too well, and there's nothing he can hide from her. “I can’t help worrying for you, you know that,” he shrugs. “And after what happened the other day… I just want to make sure you’re in the right state of mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich,” Grace slightly turns to him, “when Henri died, I just- I was on the run and never stopped. When Hannah died, I was sent on another mission the day after. And now it’s the same with Muck and Penkala and Hoobler. I’m heartbroken and I don’t even have enough time to mourn my friends, but I’m ready to fight. It’s what I’ve been taught since the beginning, to always be ready no matter what. And I’ve always managed. I don’t deny for some reason it seems even harder this time, maybe it’s because I’m so fed up with this fucking war and losing people I love… but I’m not giving up, not now. It’s hard not to, but it is what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No matter what you say, I’ll always be worried,” Richard says, hugging his knees and smiling faintly. “Yet I believe in you and your abilities. If anyone can do this, it's you. Whatever happens, I’m proud of you, Grace. I’m proud of who you became.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace didn't know she needed to hear those words until Richard said them. Every so often she thinks about it and she's unable to give herself any other explanations except that Fate wanted them to meet again; what were the odds that Grace and Richard would find themselves in the exact same place in Normandy? And that Grace was destined to provide secret information to none other than Richard's own company?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is all truly extraordinary and strange and almost scary, but Grace certainly doesn't complain, quite the opposite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard always had a special place in Grace's heart. She would level armies to save him if she ever has to, or ever could, because he’s her brother and she loves him. The friendship and brotherhood they share form a very special, unbreakable bond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace restrains herself from hugging Richard, so she just ends up giving him a decent smile, which she almost fails at because her facial muscles haven’t been moving normally for days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then her gaze moves to a spot beyond Richard’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she blurts out while standing up. “See you later, Rich.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn't even wait for him to answer, but it's as if her legs move by themselves. She strides her way to Luz, who almost jumps in surprise to see her appear out of nowhere next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy fuck, Grace, you almost gave me a heart attack,” he complains, but he’s smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did he want?” Grace asks him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From the way she had seen Dike gesturing to Luz a few seconds earlier, it seemed like he was explaining something about the impending attack and Grace has a bad feeling about it, but Dike walked off before she could reach them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants me to follow him in the field,” Luz explains warily and Grace gulps. “He wants a radioman close in case he needs-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn’t even let him finish, she walks towards the lieutenant at a firm pace with the rifle bouncing loudly on her back and Luz barely keeping up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant Dike,” she calls for him when he’s just a few feet away. “Lieutenant Dike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dike turns around and blinks at her, as if he’s trying to figure out who it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Private Whitehead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s corporal, sir,” Grace can’t help but remark, her jaw clenched so hard it almost hurts. “Sir, I was wondering if I can come with you on the field. During the assault on Foy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here, that's something Grace thought she would never do. She’s always thought that the further she is from Dike, the safer, but no way she’s letting Luz tag along with that man all by himself. Dike looks at her as if she had just professed her love for him, when in reality the request means quite the opposite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels Luz elbowing her but she decides to just ignore him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’ll be going in with 2nd Platoon, I’m sure Foley will need you more than I do,” Dike says, trying and failing to hide his pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m a well trained sniper, sir,” Grace goes on, feeling her voice almost pleading Dike to take her with him. Ew. “It’ll be useful having me there, sir, just in case. Also, it’s very dangerous for you to only have a radioman along with you, since he’ll be busy with the radio, who’s gonna watch your back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A muscle in Grace’s jaw twinches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dike is contemplating her as if she had just revealed the solution to a major life problem. “Alright, corporal,” Dike nods. “Better be ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace had hoped he would fall for it, but she's impressed with herself that it took less than a minute. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dike walks away and Grace can’t believe what she’s just done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What have you done?” Luz asks her quite heatedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I improvised,” she says, starting to walk towards the rest of 1st Platoon.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You improvised and he actually believed your bullshit. Dunno what’s scarier, to be honest,” Luz complains, following her. “What’s gotten into you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen,” Grace stops abruptly and he almost trips on her. “No way I’m letting you, or anyone, be alone in the field with that piece of shit, alright? I’m not gonna lose anyone else, not today. Not ever again, you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz looks at her a little puzzled, both flattered and scared by her behavior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace wasn't going to have a go at him like that, but her blood boils at the thought of Dike and Luz together on the battlefield and she just couldn't contain her anxiety. Luz says nothing about it, because he knows her well, and he knows that she’s just taking her frustrations out on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he gets my friends killed, I’ll kill him myself,” she continues as they reach 1st Platoon. “Lieutenant Foley, sir,” Grace seeks the lieutenant's attention, who's intent on talking to Martin. “Lieutenant Dike asked me to cover for him during the attack, he wanted me to inform you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lies. She’s lost count of how many lies she said in the past ten minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Foley nods in assent and gives her an odd look, which can mean either that he's worried that she's going in with Dike, or that he would rather have her with him. Or both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine, Whitehead,” Foley says. Then right when Grace is about to turn around, he adds: “good luck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, good luck indeed</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later, bullets whizz over Grace’s head as Easy Company runs towards Foy. She tries to stay as close as possible to Luz so as not to lose him - and protect him, just in case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adrenaline courses through her system as they get closer to the town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep moving!” she hears Lipton yelling. “Go, go, go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace keeps running fast, her feet kissing the snowy land. It's so liberating, somehow, even if bullets and bombs keep making the earth quake all around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait a minute. Where’s Foley?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace almost bumps into Dike. Confusion comes into his eyes as a sudden fog to a once clear and sunny day, and it’s only been a minute since the attack started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, we gotta move!” At first she keeps moving forward, but when she realises the lieutenant has stopped and is looking around confused, she curses under her breath and heads back. “Sir!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where the hell is 1st Platoon?” Dike yells back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace can’t believe this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All around them, comrades are being taken down by snipers and mortars while he just...  stands there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold up!” Dike shouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, we gotta move, sir! We can’t stay here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thoughts are accelerating inside Grace's head. Bullets keep grazing past her ears, mortars are dangerously exploding near them and the risk of being hit is very high. And their commander is putting everyone at risk, Grace hopes he doesn't panic anymore or they're all screwed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As far as she's concerned, she's having to make a tremendous effort not to take control of the situation and make her comrades advance - but again, this is not her place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy Company, hold up!” Dike is yelling just as Lipton is encouraging his men to keep moving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since their very first day in Bastogne, Grace had wished Lipton was their commander.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get me Foley on the radio,” Dike instructs Luz and Grace’s head is about to explode from anger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, I think we should take cover,” Luz suggests as he takes out the phone from inside his coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t stay here, we gotta find cover!” Grace shouts, not even bothering to address him like her superior, but it's like Dike has suddenly gone deaf to her voice. Hell, for a moment she wishes the enemy would help them get rid of their CO so they might have a chance to live.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Luz reaches the rest of 1st Platoon on the radio, they finally move behind a haystack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Great, from bad to worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy Red, stand by for the Six.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hail of bullets rock the haystack and she can’t help but wonder how come she’s still alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is that you, God, missing again?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace almost laughs at the thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She's leaning with her back on the hay, panting, incredulous at what is happening around them. Grace is frightened, and not because of the Germans or the war: she's afraid that Dike will condemn them all to death just as she thought he would. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gaze searches for Luz; he's staring at Dike in disbelief as he yells at Foley into the phone, then he glances over at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Luz wasn't looking at her like that right now, she wouldn't have cared about dying after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No more pain. No more snow. No more suffering. No more nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Luz is there, and he loves her. And Richard is out there too, probably worried sick about seeing his men fall like that, and Grace can picture him scanning the area with worried eyes, looking for her, making sure she's still alive. And Easy Company... her comrades count on her, she couldn't bear letting them down by giving up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all she’s gone through, she’s never given up, and she definitely won’t start now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace moves her gaze over to Dike and sees him frozen on the spot, his forehead as sweaty as if it was mid August, when suddenly Lipton and a couple of men join them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we doing, lieutenant?” Lipton shouts, and Grace has never heard Lipton so angry as he is now. “Why are we stopped?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking at Dike, it’s clear that panic has completely switched off his brain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fall back! Fall back!” he screams over the noise of mortars and bullets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then come Foley and Herron. The haystack is starting to become way too crowded and Grace doesn’t like it, she doesn’t like them to be so exposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men keep asking for instructions, but Dike clearly has no idea what to do. And that’s even scarier than the bombs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blurts out some directions to Foley, having 1st Platoon going on a suicide mission all by itself. It’s insane. Grace looks up at Foley, fear and anger have taken hold of every inch of his face and she can't blame him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We cannot stay here!” Lipton screams just as Grace herself is yelling to Dike, “We gotta get a move on!”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Foley runs off to 1st Platoon, bringing his men instructions on what to do: attack the village by themselves from the rear. Grace thinks of her friends from her platoon, Martin, Bull, Talbert… images of them dead, laying bloody in the snow, run through her mind and she can't do anything about it. If anything happened to them, nothing or no one who would be able to stop her from making Dike pay for his negligence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as Lipton is still trying to put some sense into Dike and Luz is trying to have him answer Richard on the phone - he’s probably dying of anxiety seeing all this chaos - Grace sees Herron fall, hit by machine gun fire. The blood boils in her veins. She puts herself on her knees, aims her rifle to the window where those gunners are still firing hell onto Easy Company, and shoots. It takes her two shots and they’re dead. And the same goes for the bastards in the window below, Grace takes them down too, hoping others won’t start bombarding the haystack where she and the others are currently hiding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she turns around again, she finds Dike completely off; he’s staring into void, shivering like a leaf. It takes all the energy left in Grace’s body to not tell him this is all his fault. That he’s the worst officer she’s ever worked with, and to think there were some bad ones back at SOE.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he tops them all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Grace sees something, probably an angel sent there to save them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he approaches, she realises that's not an angel, but Lieutenant Speirs, who pops out of a cloud of smoke and reaches them. Speirs takes Dike by the collar with a nonchalance that Grace doesn't understand, if it were up to her she would have strangled him straight away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m taking over,” Speirs tells Dike. “First Sergeant Lipton!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace stands up quickly, giving one last look to Dike before joining Speirs. She can’t believe they will finally have a chance to get out of there - alive. She’s never worked with Speirs before, but his reputation precedes him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was enough for Grace to see him emerge from that cloud of smoke to trust him three hundred percent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speirs listens as Lipton explains the point of the situation, but it's evident he already has clear ideas on how to carry out the attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want mortars and grenade launchers on that building till it’s gone. When it’s gone, I want 1st to go straight in. Forget going around. Everybody else, follow me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking finally.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he’s off running.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank God,” Luz says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Grace and Luz start running after Speirs, and with each step she can’t help but think there’s still hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another wave of adrenaline surprises her as they run towards the village, bombs and bullets continue to whiz by her ears but Grace feels invincible now. She feels her fears flow out and a warrior breaking free inside her. She feels unstoppable, fearless, like she could do anything. Death, pain, nothing could hold her back now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not even Dike, not anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speirs brought with him a rush of energy and hope, and it's a wonderful feeling to be under the command of a capable person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She never stops running, not even when a jolt causes her left leg to give out for a moment. She staggers and briefly stumbles on a corpse, but keeps running until they reach Speirs at the foot of a building and are soon joined by Lipton.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace flattens herself against the wall. They’re so close to the enemy, she can hear them shouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you see, Lipton?” Speirs asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Armor and Infantry. A lot of Infantry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace squints her eyes as the jolt on her hip strikes again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is no place nor time to get cramps, Grace, get a grip.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I Company’s supposed to be on the other side of the town. Do you see any sign of them?” Speirs inquiries again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Radio, anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, I think they’re gonna pull back. If we don’t connect with I, they’ll slip away,” Lipton points out wisely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, I can go to them.” Grace hears the words come out of her mouth, but she didn't even realise she was speaking. Okay, she can't wait to get this over with, but a suicidal mission like that would lead nowhere - especially with a constant cramp in her side. “I’ll find a way, sir. Someone has to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speirs glances down at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not you,” he just says flatly. “You’re not going anywhere, Whitehead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But sir-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look down at your jacket,” he tells her and, what? “You all, wait here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he’s off again. He runs into the village, not caring about the tanks and the Germans spread all around him. Right now he's a fish in a sea full of sharks, and no matter how hard she tries, she can't see a happy ending to the story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell?” Luz says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace leans to Lipton, looking at the scene over his shoulder. She... she can't believe what she's seeing, she can't believe Lieutenant Speirs is zigzagging between the tanks and no one is bothering to take him down. How is it possible? Yet it's happening. He runs, the Germans look at him perplexed, but he continues to run undeterred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At one point he disappears from their sight, but then miraculously reappears. Grace wonders why they had to deal with a commander like Dike all winter, when Speirs existed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Grace blinks. “I’d have one hundred percent died.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, you’re quite badass,” Lipton replies distractedly, and Grace can tell he’s in a bit of shock too. “But Speirs is Speirs, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace turns to Luz, her head still woozy from the whole situation, and finds him staring down at her jacket. She looks down too, finding a very large crimson stain on her hip.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Look down at your jacket, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Speirs had said before disappearing. She was so shocked by him that she didn’t bother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, that wasn’t a cramp after all… She pulls up her jacket and she realises she has a hole in her hip. How did she not notice that a bullet went through her side? It was probably the adrenaline overload, and Grace remembers Roe's exact words a few weeks ago: "When in shock or with too much adrenaline, the perception of pain is a little different, sometimes nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace didn’t believe that, until now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just stares at her umpteenth wound, trying to understand how bad it is; she managed to run with this wound and not even realise it was there until Luz told her, so it shouldn’t be that bad, right? </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>In the meantime Speirs is back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did look down, then,” he tells her, shaking his head. “How on earth didn’t you realise you got hit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, sir,” Grace just mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace, you need a medic, come on,” Lipton urges, helping her stand up. “Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys, I’m fine, I promise,” she reassures them. And for once, she’s being honest about her health. “It’s superficial, I’ll manage until this shit is over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t seem superficial to me, not in the slightest,” Luz protests, the concern so evident in his voice. “We’ll take you to Roe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious, I can’t feel a thing,” Grace says, even though she’s starting to feel a sting in the area where she got hit, but nothing unbearable. She’s definitely experienced worse. “Let’s get this over with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some time later Grace finally lets Roe check on her wound and almost regrets it when he suggests she  go to the aid station.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just put some bandages on it,” she tells him, sounding more bitter than she wanted. It’s definitely not Roe’s fault if she got hit. “I’ll be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need stitches and rest, or there's a risk it'll get infected,” Roe explains patiently. “The aid station in Bastogne blew up, but-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine. Just fix it the best you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roe gives her a look of complete disapproval, but he gets back to work. The bullet passed from side to side and luckily it doesn't seem to have injured any organ, it only pierced the flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Roe fixes her wound with as many bandages as he can find, she can't help but think about how lucky she's been - again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until twenty minutes ago, Foy was a chaos of bombing and fighting, but now the Americans are celebrating victory by singing songs and lining up German prisoners, ready for transfer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The 506th took the town from the hands of three SS Panzer Divisions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with a wounded hip, Grace feels quite relieved. Looking up, she sees Bull coming to them carrying Perconte on his back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got one too, I see,” Perconte says to Grace as they get closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay, kid?” Bull asks her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just a scratch,” she reassures them. “You thought you had the exclusive, huh, Perco?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Dang, you got me. We should start a competition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks but no thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all laugh a little, but their good morale as a result of finally winning Foy doesn't last long. In fact, the peace so longed for by the 506th will have to wait a little longer. They don't even have time to savour the victory, when they're given instructions for a new mission: they have to reconquer the towns of Noville and Rachamps from the Nazis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again Easy Company is sent to the front line, and in the afternoon they manage to occupy the town of Cobru between Foy and Noville, only to win the latter the following day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Compared to Foy, Noville is a breeze - probably even Foy would have been easier if only they had Lieutenant Speirs all along - but Grace begins to feel a severe pain in her hip getting more and more annoying. She tries not to show that she's in pain, because she doesn't want to be evacuated to the hospital for such a superficial wound. But at the same time it’s very difficult to maintain composure when you have been fighting for more than twenty-four hours in the last two days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day after that it is Rachamps' turn, also quite easy to win back and thankfully with no casualties. There's a moment when Grace thinks that's it, when a grenade is thrown at the exact spot where she, Liebgott, Grant and Popeye are. Grace doesn't know what gave her the strength and energy, but courage washes over her like a wave as she grabs the body of a dead German soldier who's right next to Popeye and throws herself with the body over the grenade. The blast of the grenade is muffled by the corpse, knocking Grace into the air but luckily she doesn't get a scratch and, most importantly, neither do her friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace has always been told by SOE that one of her strengths is that she's a fast thinker, and she always thought that was true but now it feels even more so. Her quick thinking saved her life, and her comrades’.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that's not all: Grace and Shifty managed to eliminate three snipers who were harassing Easy Company, and in doing so they finally managed to conquer the town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her strength barely holding on and her body screaming in pain, she saved herself and those men from certain death. She can't help but feel proud of herself; she has spent so much time feeling useless, but the events of the last three days almost made up for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't have super strength or laser eyes, she can't read minds or move things without touching them; yet some of the men called her a hero, today. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A hero</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moe Alley jokingly said that he will ask Winters to make her the new commander of Easy Company, and she laughed about it along with the others but in reality that silly statement moved her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like the previous couple of days, it was an eventful day, but at least it's really over now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, Grace hopes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grace has never heard a more angelic sound than that choir singing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Plaisir d'amour</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The song reminds her of the Maquis; some of the men used to sing it so often that she still remembers some lines after all this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rests her head on the back of the pew, closing her eyes and letting herself go to the sweetness of those voices.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's been a long time since she last heard a song, but most importantly, it's been a long time since she and Easy Company last spent a night indoors. It certainly doesn't feel like the welcoming warmth that a home can offer, but at least she has four walls to protect her from the cold and snow, and a few candles to warm her heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in a long time, she feels safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whitehead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace’s eyes flash open, finding Speirs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant Speirs,” she says, quite surprised. Grace figures that he wants to sit next to her, but instead he stares intently at her for what feels like forever, before motioning towards the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, corporal,” he instructs. “Captain Winters wants to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first she wanted to roll her eyes, because she too deserves some peace and cosiness after a month spent in the cold. But then hearing Richard's name, she has to admit that she wouldn't mind spending some time with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace struggles to get up and her leg almost gives out. She will never admit it, but maybe Roe was right about wanting to send her to the aid station for a few days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a limp, Grace follows Speirs out of the convent and is immediately enveloped by cold air; but it's not as cold as it was in Bastogne... it's just normal winter air. Grace sniffs the air for a moment, and it almost smells like freedom. The pain at her side and the fever that she has been feeling since that morning, even if they are strong sensations, still can't overcome the feeling of freedom that she feels in that moment. Obviously she's not free, no one is, not yet, but just the fact of having finally put Bastogne behind them means everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace still can’t believe she managed to survive a month in that forest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace sighs, as Speirs stops next to a dilapidated building. She doesn't know what time it is, but it's very late, probably midnight; it's fully dark outside, the area is mainly illuminated by the lights coming from the convent and a few lighted windows here and there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, have a smoke,” Speirs says as he hands a pack of cigarettes to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I need it, sir?” Grace asks, a little doubtful and unable to stop thinking that Speirs and cigarettes are a bad combination, as the tales about him suggest. Grace doesn't give a damn about it, so she just takes a cigarette because she could use a smoke right now. “For what awaits me behind that door?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speirs glances at his back, where Grace supposes Richard is waiting for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lights her cigarette before lighting one for himself. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be bad, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Grace has the feeling that he wants to tell her something, but before he can speak she decides she has to get this weight off her chest. “Can I tell you something, sir?” she asks. Speirs remains silent, so she takes it as a yes. “I’m so glad to have you as Easy’s CO, sir, we all are. What you did in Foy, was... you saved us. It's not like me to badmouth my superiors, even though I can't deny I do think badly of them sometimes. Only when they deserve it. But I can't help thinking that if it was up to Lieutenant Dike, we'd probably still be behind that haystack. Dead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I hadn't intervened, someone else would,” Speirs says calmly, but Grace can sense a hint of gratification in his deep voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>it was you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>sir,</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she insists, ignoring the massive headache that’s messing around with her mind, the fever kicking in in full force. “You took over Easy with a snap of the finger, and what you did with I Company, I have no words for it. I’m sorry, sir, but no one would’ve done </span>
  <em>
    <span>that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would’ve, Whitehead, you asked me before I went in.” She did, but her plan was certainly not to zigzag between one German panzer and the other. But she doesn't point it out. “I did what I had to do. You, on the other hand… you, just a corporal and moreover wounded, didn't think for a moment before volunteering. You didn't think about it before throwing yourself on that grenade. And those snipers, it probably would've taken twice as long if you and Powers hadn't taken them down. You underestimate yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did what I had to do,” Grace quotes his words. Speirs laughs a little under his breath. “Sir, I mean no disrespect, but I was a captain before I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>just a corporal</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speirs laughs again. “Take a piece of advice, corporal,” he says, emphasising the word ‘corporal’ and inhaling some smoke before continuing. “Take it easy. I know you have a captain mindset. I can see it here and now, and on the field. But you're no captain here. Don't put unnecessary burdens on yourself, more than you already have. You saved those men and they will be forever grateful to you, but you don't have to feel that the responsibility falls all on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace blinks. It's the first time since she joined the army that anyone has said such a thing to her. Speirs is right, unfortunately her captain mindset comes out strongly at times. But she's never taken into account that right here she is </span>
  <em>
    <span>just a corporal</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a long drag, letting the smoke swarm in her lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir,” Grace says, sighing. “I guess all I wanted to say is that I’m glad Easy Company finally has the captain it’s always deserved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speirs flips the cigarette butt onto the ground, as he comes closer to her. Grace remembers the first conversation with him, when his stare creeped her out; now he’s looking at her in the same way, but she finds that doesn’t mind that at all. “Come on, Captain Winters is waiting,” he says, nodding towards the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Grace salutes him. Her mind is becoming foggy, her eyes hurt so bad due to the fever, but she manages a faint smile. She walks past the lieutenant, thanking the dark for hiding her smug face, when Speirs stops her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really appreciated what you said, Whitehead,” he says. Was that his own way of saying thank you? “Somehow I feel like you don’t believe certain stories about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said that, sir,” Grace smirks. Hell, she does believe every single one of them. “But, you know, I’ve always thought that the best disguise we have is the assumptions other people make about us. Also, I don’t really mind if they’re true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a small part of her that believes she managed to impress Speirs, but she doesn't want to go any further. Without waiting for an answer, Grace salutes him again quickly and finally enters the building. Her pain amplifies by the minute and, as if that weren't enough, she feels the fever rising with each passing moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace finds Richard almost immediately, and his face twists at the sight of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace, what the hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello to you too,” she mumbles, dropping herself onto the first available chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard sits down again slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Grace, you look really sick. What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs. “After a month in the cold, I finally got myself a fever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s the wound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still there, throbbing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, listen to me,” Richard scrutinises her. “As we’re done here, I’ll accompany you myself to Roe. I don’t want to hear any buts, am I clear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace scoffs. “Yes, sir,” she mocks him, but she can’t help but think he’s right. “Why did you send for me, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard sighs, giving her one last look before going back to his papers; Grace studies him carefully as he fiddles with some documents, before he arranges them in a pile and puts them aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I want to discuss a couple of things with you before we move out again.” Grace gulps, starting to torture her cuticles. “Before you think the worst, it’s not. Actually, one’s a good thing, the other depends on your point of view, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Grace nods, inviting him to go on because she can’t wait to go to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard takes a deep breath. “Well, the good news is that apparently your rank doesn't seem to be fitting anymore,” he starts and Grace quirks up an eyebrow. “So, I put in for a promotion and Colonel Sink approved. Congratulations, Sergeant Whitehead.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that announcement, Grace's eyes are as immobile as the rest of her face, as if news like that was impossible to absorb any faster. She's frozen for maybe three seconds before the corners of her mouth resumes their usual softness and her eyes quit staring at Richard. She turns her gaze to one side, as if to hide her gratification.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace allows herself to just a moment, then locks eyes with him again. “Thank you, Rich. Truly, it means a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t help but think about Speirs who kept on going on about her being </span>
  <em>
    <span>just a corporal. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grace smiles to herself, there’s no way he didn’t know. He just teased her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, it’s all you, Grace,” Richard smiles broadly. It’s clear he’s even happier than her at her promotion. “Some officers put pressure on me to remind me how good you are - not that I needed a reminder, so I thought this might be the right time for a change. A positive change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Some officers put pressure. </span>
  </em>
  <span>If Grace could cry, she would. Happy tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace can’t wait to tell Luz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the other hand,” Richard continues, giving her an uncertain look, “I was thinking about reassigning you to 2nd Platoon.” Grace scrunches up her face, and he notices so he urges to explain. “Thing is, 2nd Platoon had been hit the hardest in the last few weeks. I think they could use as much help as they can get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely,” Grace agrees quickly. At first she was a little baffled by the decision, but simply because she has 1st Platoon in her heart since the beginning. Luz, Talbert, Bull, Martin... the thought of not being with them anymore hit her hard at first. But, as Muck once said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“as you can see we're always all mixed up together. In battle, that's another story. As a wise soldier said once: keep your comrades close, but your platoon closer.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace lets out a chuckle, ignoring Richard's puzzled face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’d love to be of some help. This way I can be closer to Don.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of finally being closer to Malarkey is a great comfort to her, and she's very grateful to Richard for giving her this opportunity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps now she doesn't feel the urge to tell Luz about her promotion anymore. Grace mentally slaps herself, of course Luz will be very happy for her; even if they'll no longer be in the same platoon it doesn't mean they will never see each other again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything will be fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace rests a hand on her hip. The wound is throbbing hard and her head hurts and spins fast, it's like there's someone inside her skewering her brain. Instinctively she brings both hands to her head and presses on her temples, as if this helps to ward off the pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace feels her face sweaty and hot and cold at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace barely hears Richard approaching. She can't bring herself to open her eyes, they hurt too much. She feels him fiddling with her jacket and then hears him sighing loudly as he lifts her bandage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace, come on, I'll take you to Roe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roe's name echoes in her head. For a moment, just a moment, all the pain fades away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Grace passes out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>» info «</p><p>- It's true that Foley first saw combat in Foy! He served in the Coast Artillery Corps before getting his jump wings in November '44. Also, this is a story I read somewhere some time ago and I wanted to share because it's kinda funny; while advancing towards Foy, some from1st Platoon - including Foley - came across three Germans, and captured them. The Germans kept harassing them, calling them "stupid". I believe Foley was with Martin and a few other men who left the platoon as soon as they captured the Germans. One of the men (but I can't recall who) was so sick of hearing the Germans calling them stupid that he decided kill all of the prisoners lol don't call anyone stupid, kids :')<br/>- I read somewhere that actually Dike froze during the attack on Foy because he got wounded, but I think no one has ever confirmed it. Winters and Bill and Babe said in their books that he was an incompetent af, so did Lipton, so I trust them haha. <br/>-  On January 13th, the 101st Airborne along with the forces from the Third Army faced the elite of the German military which included elements from 1st SS Panzer Division Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler, Führerbegleitbrigade, 12th SS Panzer Division Hitlerjugend, and the 9th SS Panzer Division Hohenstaufen.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Scars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you Angie as always for helping me out with this!</p><p><b>CONTENT WARNING:</b> issues with body shape.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grace stays in a Belgian hospital for almost three weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gunshot wound got infected, just as Roe predicted it would, and consequently the fever mixed with fatigue caused her physical breakdown. Grace doesn't know what happened right after she passed out while she was talking to Richard, the only thing she remembers is that she woke up lying on a cot with an icy cloth on her forehead and the wound all stitched up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No sign of Easy Company, just unfamiliar faces of wounded soldiers, and nurses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unlike last time, Grace is not keen on leaving the hospital; her wound doesn't hurt that much now that it's been taken care of, but she's really tired both physically and mentally and she spends the majority of the day trying to sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are days the tiredness comes in both forms: physical and mental. Her body needs to rest, yet her mind needs it to move, to burn the anxiety right out. Grace thinks it's what kept her awake and vigilant after Muck's death, the awareness she could ease off some heavy thoughts just by cleaning her rifle, or engaging in a conversation, or walking around. Keeping herself busy so she wouldn’t have time to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now without this kind of exercise, her mind keeps her up all night long, but at the same time without rest her body will spiral into exhaustion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Logically, it would be better for Grace just go AWOL so as to keep her brain working non stop again, and she knows it. Yet she wonders if an honest examination of her sadness and despair can bring forth happier days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first few days since she woke up reached the peak of hell: all the weight of the events of the last month fell on her fiercely and, having nothing to do all day but think, Grace’s head got </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> messed up by her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Especially Muck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Skip Muck wouldn't leave her alone for a second. Sometimes remembering him is nice, he makes faint smiles appear in her twisted, old face, but most of the time he only brings pain. Grace simply can't get the image of Muck and Penkala exploding out of her head, she can't help but think of Hoobler's terrified expression just before he passed away, of Gordon being dragged out of the foxhole, and then Sisk, Welsh, Stevenson, Guarnere, Toye... her mind can't help but process all these thoughts over and over again, analysing every moment and wondering if she would have been able to help, somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And this second guessing wouldn't leave her alone for a second. Not even while she sleeps; her dreams had ceased to be proper dreams for quite some time, but now they had just turned into constant nightmares. Grace often wakes up suddenly, screaming, drenched in sweat and with labored breathing, thinking she heard an incoming barrage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there aren't barrages anymore. Only in her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hell didn't get to stop after all, not even after Bastogne. Hell seems to never want to stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But given all this, Grace temporarily prefers to stay in the hospital rather than face reality, but especially face her friends. Even with all those thoughts and nightmares being her routine, she feels that this is the right place and the right time to face her demons before returning to Easy Company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Grace is a sergeant, she can't afford to be weak and wrecked in front of her comrades, her friends, her men.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace turns over in bed. It's late in the evening, some random day in early February. She’s lost count. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>February 1945. She sniffles, thinking back to New Year and the promises she, Luz and Muck had made for the upcoming year and she wants to cry, but she ends up with a pounding headache instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace moves her gaze to the candle that's fading slightly on a nearby table, the flame flickering in that vulnerable way fire does, then being pushed by a breeze from the newly opened door. The nurse, Patty, came in just a few minutes ago, she struck the match and she stood back just a little, watching the new flame flicker its golden hue into the night before exiting the room again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty is nice, so is the other nurse - Grace thinks she’s called something like Jacquelyn or Jocelyn, she never really got her name; they’re all nice, but their looks are tired just as Grace’s is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inevitably, both the nurses and the wounded soldiers, most of them coming from the 327th Infantry Regiment, have been looking at her peculiarly ever since she arrived. Not necessarily in a bad way, more than anything they probably wonder why an uniformed </span>
  <em>
    <span>woman </span>
  </em>
  <span>from the 506th PIR swooped in there with a gunshot wound. In three weeks, no one has ever asked her explanations, and Grace is definitely fine with that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She's not even worried about her identity being discovered anymore, it’s the least of her concerns. Nonetheless, whoever brought her to the hospital checked her in with the name Hélène.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only thing Grace hopes for is not jeopardizing the safety of her comrades by being discovered. It seems, at least from the chatter she’s managed to pick up in the past few days, that the hellish time holding Bastogne made the difference in the end. That the taking of Foy, and the other towns, did something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a way, it's almost as if the weight of war is somehow lighter now, less overwhelming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace presses her fingers on the bandage gently. The wound doesn’t hurt anymore, just stings more often than not, but she can definitely live with that. With another scar. It’s not the wound to her flesh that’s her biggest concern, but the injury to her brain, to the way she sees the world and perceives others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wound will heal long before she’ll be able to heal her brain. It’s always been like that. Emotional scars are a roadmap of sorts, one that tells of your travels in your personal war. Yet it’s when you walk that pain with a purpose to heal and love yourself, to forgive and free yourself of guilt and shame, to make amends for past wrongs in whatever way is available to you, that's when those scars evaporate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every soldier deserves to go home. So the main goal for Grace now is to win her battles, win herself. She has to, for her own sake, but also for Muck. And Luz. And her other friends. For that is the real route to true happiness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t sleep, Hélène?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace startles, she didn’t realise that Patty came back. The nurse towers over her kindly, a crooked smile on her face as she pats Grace’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s new?” Grace says, trying to smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty hands her a glass. “Here, drink this. It’ll help a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s in it?” Grace queries, accepting the glass full of clear liquid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just drink it, soldier.” Grace does. “How’s this wound today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace uncovers herself from the blanket and lifts her jacket so the nurse can take a proper look. A small brown lock comes out of her cap, and she gently tucks it back in before checking Grace's wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t look so bad anymore,” Patty states, happily. “Well, I guess the surgeon will agree with me and you can be discharged first thing tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma'am. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't feel completely ready to return to her company, but at the same time she misses them more than ever. Maybe those men will be able to heal that part of her that doesn't want to be healed. Perhaps the convalescence in this Belgian hospital has done its part, filled its purpose, and now the rest is up to something else, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone else</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Muck died there was hope. Just a tiny flicker against the wind. After Muck was gone, there was nothing. Just emptiness. But in three weeks of fighting constantly against the demons living in her head, Grace realised that by thinking that way she was actually dishonouring her friend. He would rage in seeing her like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Focusing all the time on all the people she had lost over the years, Grace had never thought of focusing instead on the ones who are still here and who are counting on her. Particularly Malarkey, who like her had suffered a great loss, and was now waiting for her to help him out - and not just mourning together and being there for each other, but with winning the war as well. Because she's 2nd Platoon sergeant now, and Malarkey needs her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Luz, he needs her as she needs him, his presence, his crooked smile, his kind and at times silly words and the love he feels for her. They need each other and Grace doesn't know if he feels the same, but she's convinced at this point that she couldn't possibly face a life where he’s not there by her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the stillness, Grace lets the tornado that is her pain slow down, perhaps stop. It's in these troubled times you can begin to take steps forward, to learn that life can be okay, but she needs to learn how to heal from within if it's to last. Her mind is invariably looking for solutions, a way to go on and thrive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So no, Grace is not entirely ready to go back to Easy Company, but that's exactly what she was going to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” Patty continues as she puts a hand on Grace’s forehead to check that she doesn’t have a fever, although Grace feels okay. “I believe your battalion will be moving out soon. Aren’t you from the 506th?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I am. Wait, are they here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no,” the nurses urges. “We were arranging some discharge papers earlier, and I think they’re headed to France. I promise I’ll talk to the surgeon later so you’ll be able to rejoin your company tomorrow before they go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, nurse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty gives Grace her most beautiful, youthful smile, and it’s in that moment that Grace realises that Patty is the first woman she has talked to in months.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my job,” she says, arranging Grace’s blanket so she can be more comfortable. “I know it’s none of my business, but I regret not asking you for your story. The reason why you're here. It was quite the shock when they brought a wounded woman here</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me, it’s better for you to not know. It’s a long, troubled story,” Grace tells her. At that moment a silly thought crosses her mind, she wonders how many hours it would take her to tell her story; all the things she's done, all the things she's endured, the death, the betrayal, from the very first moment she set foot in England, to her joining the Army, to Bastogne... How long would it take her to tell everything in detail? Perhaps Grace should write a book, but she wouldn't even know where to start.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace shakes her head. Why would anyone want to read her story, anyway?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty nods. “Okay, then. Just- thank you for what you did for all of us. And for what you keep doing. Thank you, Corporal Hélène.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace can’t help but smile, nodding. She watches as Patty finally heads to the door once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Sergeant Whitehead, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty turns around. For a moment she looks confused, then her gaze moves down to Grace, where her rank of corporal is displayed on her jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got promoted five minutes before collapsing on the ground,” Grace explains, almost feeling ashamed. “I guess I got too overwhelmed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Patty smiles broadly, then finally leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace expects a long night ahead, in which she hopes to be able to sleep and recover at least some strength because tomorrow is finally time for her to be reunited with her company.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning Grace finally leaves the hospital. She quickly thanks and bids goodbye to the nurses, before exiting the facility and breathing fresh air. She sucks it in as if nothing had ever been so sweet; the three weeks she’s spent inside those walls had felt like months, as she never went outside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All in all, Grace has searched her own heart and has come to the conclusion that she will not miss anything from the hospital, she’s stayed in there way too long. The only thing she will miss will be the sporadic chats with Patty, but other than that she’s happy to finally be able to reunite with Easy Company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A jeep with a couple of other discharged soldiers brings her to a small village a few miles away from the hospital, and that's where she finds the 101st ready for departure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace made it just in time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she gets out of the car with a little hop, the first one to come up and greet her with open arms is none other than Johnny Martin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look who came back from the dead!” he shouts, making some other helmeted heads turn. Martin tightly squeezes Grace’s shoulder, a big smile plastered on his face. “How’re you doing, champ? Or should I say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sarge?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I'm glad to know that the promotion is still valid and hasn't fucked off along with my health back in Rachamps,” Grace returns the squeeze, genuinely happy to see her platoon sergeant. Her </span>
  <em>
    <span>ex </span>
  </em>
  <span>platoon sergeant</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Bet you guys are happy you got rid of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In response, Talbert suddenly appears next to her and wraps his arm around her, quickly kissing her temple and mussing her hair. “Hey, petal, you’re back! Didn’t think we’d see you for a while! What’s this story going around they made you sergeant in 2nd Platoon? It’s a joke, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let her breathe, Floyd,” Martin steps in, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace snorts. “As far as I'm concerned I've been breathing way too much lately,” she says, winking in Martin’s direction before facing Talbert. “Actually, Tab, word is you’re the reason I got transferred, so thank you for that, you dummy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talbert detangles himself from Grace and he actually seems to be meditating about what she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, because you can’t stand me or something like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frown that appears on his face is priceless, and Grace struggles hard to maintain her facade. It takes Talbert another handful of seconds before realising she’s just messing with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You little shit, you had me for a moment,” Talbert pokes her shoulder, before enveloping her in a proper, quick hug. “You’re a menace more times than not, but I wouldn’t change you for anything in the world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace looks up. “Wow, are my ears functioning okay, did you actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>compliment </span>
  </em>
  <span>me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I say?” Talbert shrugs. “I’m a softy sometimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not a softy, you’re a dumbass,” Martin kicks his calf and they all start laughing. “It’s good to have you back, Grace. Even if you’re in anot-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smartyyy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace turns around, and she doesn’t even have the time to figure out who called her before she finds a mop of hair in her mouth and a pair of arms blocking her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello to you too, Joe,” she smiles as Liebgott releases her to look her in the eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, you look like shit,” he says. “But thank god you’re back! And word is you’re our sergeant, now, doll.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t address your platoon sergeant as </span>
  <em>
    <span>doll, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Joe,” Martin raises a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“News travels fast, I see,” Grace smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, not that fast, given it’s been almost a month,” Shifty says, approaching the group and giving her a big, wide smile. “The hospital made you lose track of time, uh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Probably, because three weeks felt more like three months</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so,” she just says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't understand how she could even think the hospital was better than going back to Easy Company. Yes, it helped her face her demons, but no way laying in a cot all day, everyday, was better than being surrounded by her friends. After not even five minutes with them and she already feels recharged. And she hasn't even seen Luz, Malarkey, or Richard yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright guys, I’m flattered you bunch of morons missed me that much,” Grace announces, fixing her rucksack on her back, “but can you tell me where I can find Captain Winters? Or Lieutenant Speirs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Winters is over there, by those trucks,” Martin informs her, pointing to a spot over her shoulder. “See you around, Smarty. It’s good to have you back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace greets everyone with a wave of her hand and the most sincere smile she can find. Seeing them so content about her return certainly makes her feel less miserable than when she left the hospital that morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight of Richard makes her feel even better. He has an arm resting on the windshield of a car and he's carefully listening to something Nixon is saying. Whenever Grace finds herself looking for Richard, somehow she always finds him talking to Nixon, like they come as some kind of a package deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Richard sees her approaching, he shoves his friend aside and comes towards Grace at a brisk pace. Grace expected him to throw himself into a hug, so she’s about to spread her arms and welcome him, when he just blurts out: “Did you go AWOL?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace blinks. “What happened to greetings around here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hello princess,” Nixon welcomes her far more graciously than Richard. “We were just wondering if we should expect you anytime soon or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, do you even know me?” Grace rolls her eyes, but she shakes hands with the captain. “Glad to see you, Nix. And glad to see you too, grumpy,” she then addresses Richard. “No, I didn’t go AWOL, I actually got discharge papers, you wanna check?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Grace, just thought you’d be staying at the hospital for at least another couple of weeks,” Richard explains, and then he finally takes her gently into his arms. Better late than never. “You had me quite worried. When you passed out, you were in a critical state, and we had to plunge you in the snow to lower the fever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry I got you all worried,” Grace nods. “I guess next time I’ll pay more attention to Roe’s advice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richard releases from the hug and looks at her intently, as if he’s trying to make sure she’s really fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look a bit pale,” Nixon tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a nice way of saying I look like shit?” Grace lifts a brow, making both Nixon and Richard chuckle. “Because Liebgott didn’t have much trouble telling me just that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spend a few minutes catching up with her about the events she's been missing over the past few weeks, but to her great consolation, Grace discovers that the only almost interesting thing she's missed has been Peacock's return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as they keep going, something else comes up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be informing Lieutenant Speirs you’re back,” Richard says, nodding. “As for now, Malarkey is leading 2nd Platoon. We’ll think of something as we get to Haguenau.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Grace nods and she’s desperate to see Malarkey. “Do I need to report to him now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, just hop on a truck and we’ll sort it out once we get there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came just in time,” Nixon comments as the engines of the trucks start roaring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and Grace,” Richard nibbles at his upper lip, “There's no need to make a fuss about it for now, but rumor has it that people outside the Airborne know there's a woman fighting among us. Now, I think the Germans have a way much bigger concerns at the moment than a former spy suddenly resurrecting from the dead, so don't worry for now. But I thought you should know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ever since Grace joined the US Army, she has always been very careful not to screw things up. She made a lot of sacrifices because it wasn't just her safety at stake, but everyone else’s. Richard is right, the Germans definitely have other things to think about at the moment, but the last thing Grace wants is to jeopardize the safety of her company. She knows the Nazis, she's been fighting them for years, and you can never breathe quietly with them always lurking around the corner. On the other hand, Richard said that it's rumored, but he didn't say if these rumors also swim in enemy waters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be careful,” Grace promises, her tone firm. “How can people know? Someone from the hospital, maybe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really know, Grace,” Richard shakes his head. “Sink has been answering questions regarding a woman in the army since we got here. As I said, don’t worry about it. We just have to hang tough for a little longer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They call us the Battered Bastards of Bastogne back in the States,” Nixon informs her. “Guess we earned that nickname.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately they don't have the time to continue the conversation, as the first trucks are already leaving. Richard orders Grace to get on one, they will continue the conversation later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace says goodbye to them and heads for the first free truck, a small, proud smile plastered on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Battered Bastards of Bastogne. Hell yes, they did earn that nickname.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Grace almost reaches the truck, she suddenly meets Luz's gaze. He looks even more tired than she remembered him: his beard looks wild, Grace has never seen him so unkempt, his eyes look tired but the moment he sees Grace they zoom in like two headlights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace starts walking towards him, not even trying to hide a big smile. He throws his backpack absently on the truck before walking to her but, unlike Grace, he's not smiling. Luz spreads his arms out and closes the gap between them. He holds her like he has never done before, squeezing the life out of her. Grace sighs into his hair, thinking that the last time they hugged it was in a foxhole when Muck and Penkala died and he was trying to keep her safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz dips his face into Grace's neck and seconds later she hears sobs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace struggles to free herself from Luz and, when she looks up, she sees shy tears filling his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, hey,” Grace says, throwing her hands into his hair again and holding him close. “It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought I’d never see you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace’s heart flips in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, you really thought it’d be so easy to get rid of me?” she manages a smile, wiping off a tear from his cheek. “It was just an infection, that’s all. And fatigue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, it’s just- it’s not that. I thought they’d send you back to England, and that you’d never come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Luz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace can’t help but hug him once again, as the truck’s engines threaten to leave them behind. Both of them hop on it as it starts moving, helped by some men of 1st Platoon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The journey to the town of Haguenau lasts only a few hours, in which Grace and Luz never stop chatting and brushing each other's hands from time to time. Grace tells him about her convalescence in the hospital, and strangely finds herself not omitting any details. She tells him everything, from the lovely nurses to the curious glances of the soldiers, from sleepless nights to nightmares and the fact that Muck never stopped bothering her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's been exactly one month since his death and he's still the uncontested protagonist of her nightmares. And she hates that, because the only way she wants to remember her friend is with the good, fun times they had together, and luckily they managed to get many before he... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace imagines the shock has yet to run its course, but she hopes it will hurry the hell up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz tells her about the night Grace was taken to the hospital, that he didn't have time to see her because Richard and Roe had already taken her away when Speirs broke the news. He tells her about the fear and the anxiety of having to lose her, but not only from his side, but from all of them; Grace feels her heart doing a couple of somersaults knowing that they haven't been through a much better time than she had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shortly after they start talking, Luz loosens up a little and for a moment things seem to be back as they were before he made the big declaration almost two months ago. It's beautiful, Grace finally feels her heart lighter after a month of absolute suffering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Talking to Luz works like a cure to her poor heart and soul, but she's not ready to tell him that just yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They travel through several small towns, but eventually the trucks slow down and Grace realises they must have finally arrived in Haguenau. It takes her just a quick look around to see that the little town looks awful: the street where they’re traveling has clearly been shelled multiple times. At least half of the buildings around them seem to have been heavily bombed and the rubble that has fallen on the street has been piled up against the pavement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a terrible sight and Grace wonders if there's even only one town left completely intact. The mud and puddles make it difficult for the trucks to move forward, causing the soldiers to jolt in their seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George Luz!” someone calls from the street. Grace cranes her neck only to discover Webster’s familiar face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Luz says distractedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me, come on. I haven’t been gone that long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus. Yes, you have,” Luz concludes and Grace can’t help but agree with him. Good for him, though, he missed  the worst part of the Airborne’s war. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Webster walks along the truck, he finally notices Grace, who’s still staring at him. “Grace! Wow, you’re still here. It’s good to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you too, Web,” Grace says, wondering if with that statement he meant that he thought she wouldn’t still be alive. She doesn’t say anything, just plasters a small smile on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile drops the moment she thinks back to Hoobler; who knows if Webster knows. They were really close friends, and for a moment she’s about to say something but she can’t bring herself to give him such news. Webster clearly notices that shift in her mood, but doesn’t say anything. He looks at her sadly, probably realising she’s not really well, and then gives her a nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you around, Smarty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace nods back and then rests her head on Luz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That peace doesn’t last long, because a few moments later the truck stops completely. Grace quickly waves goodbye to Luz and the others, because she needs to find Malarkey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She only takes a few steps before spotting him. Her heart leaps in joy the moment she sees Malarkey, but he barely looks himself anymore: his appearance is almost as scruffy as Luz's - and everyone else’s, including her own - but behind the unkept beard and exhaustion, there's still that pain that Grace had seen in his eyes the day after Muck's death.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace takes a deep breath, before hurrying up and catching up with him. The moment Malarkey sees her coming, he throws his arms around her neck without saying a single word; he holds her tight for a few seconds, before letting her go and taking her face in his rough hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace,” he smiles, wrinkles forming at the corner of his eyes. “I’m so, so happy to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Don, I can’t even tell how much I missed you,” she says before hugging him again. “We’ll have a lot of catching up to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we do. But first things first…” Malarkey pats gently on her shoulder. “Welcome to 2nd Platoon, my friend. We have work to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” she smiles, and suddenly someone bumps into her as soldiers are starting to crowd together all around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look who it is!” McClung shouts, giving her a loud pat on her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, One Lung,” Grace salutes him as the other boys start congratulating her for being back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spread out,” Malarkey instructs them all, motioning to one side of the road. “Hold on along this line till I figure out where we’re going. Grace, you go with them, see you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace follows the men as they enter town and she’s immediately joined by both Grant and Heffron. Before they get a chance to greet her, a mortar shell hits a building at their right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A nice welcome to France.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t think we’d see you again, eh, Smarty,” Heffron bumps her arm jokingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus, what’s with you all thinking I’d die?” Grace says, faking an offended tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, you were pretty bad,” Grant says, as he starts kicking a small rock that was in his way. “We thought we wouldn’t see you for at least another month or so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace steals his rock with her foot and they start a small improvised game, which gets interrupted by the rock getting lost in a puddle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m here now, and apparently I’m your sergeant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both give her a toothy smile and Grace feels truly respected as a woman and as a soldier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malarkey finds her again a couple of minutes later with new orders and Grace finds herself thinking that she’s already beginning to love her new rank of sergeant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, fellas,” Grace turns her head to some of the men from her new platoon, shifting the rifle across her chest. “Lock and load. We’re going on outpost duty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Easy Company spends the rest of the day settling in the town. After holding the outpost for a couple of hours before being relieved, Grace joins the rest of 2nd Platoon in a building they chose to stay in, and it doesn't seem true that she will be sleeping in a real bed tonight. The hospital cots were far better than the foxholes in terms of comfort, but they have nothing to do with a proper bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace struggles to believe it, and this, along with the happiness of her comrades in seeing her alive and well, definitely manages to lift her spirits a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with sporadic mortar rounds, it almost feels like a holiday; she knows that it's not, and that this is the worst time to let the guard down, but she's so glad to have left Belgium behind that any place now seems heavenly to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Belgium has taken away almost everything she had left. Now it's time to leave it behind, possibly forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Meanwhile, a new lieutenant arrives at Easy Company, fresh from West Point and assigned to 2nd Platoon. Grace doesn't know Lieutenant Jones yet, the only thing she knows is that he's very young and evidently inexperienced, but she hopes that he will be able to help Malarkey in managing the platoon. And easing some weight off her friend's shoulder, it's about time someone does that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they settle down, they are overwhelmed by the best news she could ever hope for: showers. The moment they're told there are showers, the emotion and relief hits her so strongly that she finds herself staring into the void, incredulous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While she’s standing in line for the shower, she almost jumps in surprise when she sees who just appeared beside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Skinny!” Grace shouts, scanning him with her eyes. She hasn’t seen him in two months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sisk gives her a bright smile, pinching her kindly on her cheek. “Oi, Smarty. You doing okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, kind of,” Grace blurts out. “Just came back from the hospital myself. How’s your leg?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sisk shrugs. “Fine, I guess. It gave me hell for weeks, this little bitch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I’m okay, now. See you around, sergeant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sergeant</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It still feels strange to be called sergeant, even though she’s been called that all day. Hearing about her friends calling her sergeant has a proud effect on Grace, even though she’s had higher ranks in the past.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace bids goodbye to Sisk with a smile. His return is another reason to keep her spirits slightly higher than it had been before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as it's her turn to get into the shower, she suddenly realises something quite embarrassing: she's going to have to get naked in front of everyone. Peering into the tent they've set up for showers, she notices that some of the men are naked and others have their underwear on. She's always been shameless about this kind of thing, but that doesn’t stop Grace from feeling a little uncomfortable right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as she’s pondering the problem, Malarkey comes out of the tent all fresh and clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace, wanna wait until they’re all done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s for the best,” she nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace waits outside the tent for at least half an hour. Malarkey has offered to wait with her so he can stand guard once she gets in the shower so that no one can enter; it's very nice of him, but she declines kindly. Also, she's quite sure that the men have other things to do rather than spy on her while she takes a shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While waiting, Grace finds herself talking to Peacock. He greets her with genuine glee and stops with her for a few minutes, delivering his congratulations on her promotion, but telling her that he's a little disappointed about having to hand her over to another platoon. Once again, Grace finds herself flattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally the last man comes out of the shower and now it's her turn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace enters the tent a little hesitant but at the same time excited, while the steam from the hot water that has been running until a minute ago is already penetrating her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hangs the new and clean uniform given to her on a nearby hook, and looking down at the one she's wearing, it feels surreal that it's the same uniform. Her uniform is dirty and worn, Grace has been wearing it for two months straight. The color is darker due to the wear of time and dirt, but in some spots it's even darker and she sighs, knowing that that colour is dried blood. Her sleeve is stained with blood, where a splinter had hit her on the wrist; her left side is dirty and torn, where the bullet pierced her skin back in Foy; the rest of the blood is all Stevenson's from when he exploded next to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't want to think about it anymore, so she takes off her jacket, sweater and tank top, then she quickly takes off her pants and is left with only her underwear. She hurries to turn on the water, because the smell that's rising from her clothes and body makes her feel sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The metallic head that hangs loosely above her spreads water onto her body, warm and steady, awakening her skin in all the right ways. The sudden, but good shock makes her tense her muscles. Grace allows the hot water to soothe the ache that claws at her limbs, the steam from the shower is thick and fills the air as she tries to wash away the last two months of her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace never thought that taking a shower could feel so surreal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moves her face towards the water, letting it hit her cheeks with force and she loses track of how long she stays in that position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers meet her long hair, trying to get rid of the knots that had grown over time.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone has left some soap on the ground just a few feet from where she's standing, so she grabs it and drags it over her body, the action soothing her rough skin. Grace brings the soap to her neck, letting it caress her skin as if it were kisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a moment to observe her body: it's unrecognisable. Aside from multiple scars, some still fresh and others now fading away, her pale skin is covered in bruises; the purple and green with yellow blotches covers a large part of her body and Grace has no idea how she got so many.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gently runs her hands over the bruises, as if with a single touch she can heal them. Her fingers slide between her breasts, then reach her hip and she holds her breath when she realises that her ribs can be seen through her skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace has never been particularly slim, and seeing herself so worn out has a horrible effect on her mind. Seeing her pelvis protrude out of her flesh creates a sense of disgust because the war did that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace sinks her face into her hands. Her craved shower brought a sense of discomfort to her body that she never thought she would feel. But she doesn't want to let this ruin the only tolerable day she’s had in what feels like forever; the bruises will fade away with time, and now that she no longer has to eat only K-rations and cold stew, maybe she will be able to get back her little belly that she loved so much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least she still has a body to fix, unlike Muck and Penkala.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the soap is almost finished and a pleasant scent gently tickles her nostrils, Grace finally decides it's time to go back to her men. After all, she has work to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't know how long it's been since she's stepped into the shower, but she now feels reborn. She quickly puts on her clean uniform and then exits the tent with a sincere smile on her face.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>» info «<br/>- Luz was actually transferred to HQ after Foy, and I discovered it just recently, ops haha. For the sake of the story, he will remain in 1st platoon!</p><p> </p><p>Helloooo! Thank you so much for reading! :) this was a very introspective chapter, it was quite the challenge writing it, but I truly hope you felt Grace's thoughts and feelings!<br/>See you next week with a very special chapter that may or may not have a different pov :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. The George Luz Show</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you Angie for beta reading this!<br/>Hello! Welcome to Luz's head :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Captain Winters assigned him to manage the inventory, Luz thought it would be a nice change from the amount of stress and work of the last period. After spending months with his hands glued to his rifle twenty-four hours a day and sleeping with one eye open, it's nice to know that the only thing he has to worry about now is splitting the rations and weapons that will then be distributed among the platoons. It turned out to be quite a boring job, but Luz can use some boredom right now. He deserves it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he enters the building, he sets up some boxes all around the table and starts to split grenades for the upcoming patrol, cigarettes, Harshey bars, Baby Ruths and the like. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he tosses chocolate bars from one box to another, Vest glares at him and shakes his head. Vest has been sorting out the mail since the beginning of the war, which is more or less the same thing as sorting out rations, right? So he has the right to glare at Luz for getting bored so easily, not even half a day through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz gives him an apologetic look and a shrug, before going back to the next box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t you just admit that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Casablanca</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the best movie ever made?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz looks up, seeing Martin and Grace standing next to the door: Martin has both eyebrows raised in defiance, while Grace is looking at him, bored, with her arms crossed. Today her hair is clean and braided, placed over one shoulder, and Luz is trying to keep as much composure as possible so as not to reach out and touch her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This happens every time they meet, but that's another story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace still hasn't noticed Luz, and maybe it's for the best because he knows he’s staring. She's different, quieter than a few months ago and not in a positive way: it's as if she were turned off, as if someone had pushed a button inside her, making her fade away slowly. Luz knows very well that this button was switched on the moment Hoobler died. And it all went downhill from there and now she's just like that, and the worst is that there's nothing Luz can do about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that aside from a few words of comfort and a few hugs, there isn't much else he can do to help the woman he loves, but it’s driving him insane nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace told him that just his presence is enough to make her feel better, but Luz doesn’t entirely believe her. But that's how she is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet even though her expression is sad most of the time, to Luz she still remains the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, Johnny,” Grace starts and her annoyed tone makes Luz chuckle. “I didn’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>Casablanca </span>
  </em>
  <span>ain’t a good movie, I just gravitate towards other stuff, like </span>
  <em>
    <span>His Girl Friday</span>
  </em>
  <span> for example.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me guess,” Martin scoffs, crossing his arms as well. “Because Cary Grant is in it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace rolls her eyes. “No, because it’s such a quirky and funny movie and god knows how much this world needs more funny stuff. Also, Cary Grant, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin moves towards Luz now, shaking his head at him; then Grace notices Luz and gives him a crooked smile and a wink before returning to Martin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Excuse me, madam,” Grace says, bizarrely altering her voice in an attempt to mimic a man's - Cary Grant’s in this case, “are you referring to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?’” Grace brings her hand to her chest in an exaggerated imitation of Cary Grant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All three of them erupt into a loud cackle and it’s nice seeing her smile like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave the impressions to Luz, will ya?” Martin punches her lightly on the shoulder, then leans ungraciously on the table, eyeing the supplies that Luz is meticulously arranging in the boxes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t that bad, really,” Luz comments distractedly, as he separates the chocolates from candies. “But I still own the title, young lady.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t even dare to try stealing it,” Grace agrees, doing a slight jump to sit on the table, with the result of crushing a few bars. Grace squints her eyes a little, probably because doing certain movements still gives her some pain in her hip, then gives Luz an apologetic look before taking a Harshey bar from under her buttocks. “There’s no competition with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, who told you that you could eat that?” Luz queries with his forehead creased as she stops her movement with the bar already half in her mouth. “That’s the Army’s property, for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, have you been possessed by Sobel?” Martin asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just trying to do my job, here,” Luz protests, earning some giggles from both Grace and Martin. “I’m responsible for all this shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, Mr Responsible,” Grace blurts out with her mouth full, making a ball with the chocolate wrapping paper and throwing it at him. “Would you really have given someone this bar after I crushed it with my ass? That wouldn't be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess the men have tasted worse,” Luz rolls his eyes, then smiles at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a moment when their eyes remain glued to each other and it's as if an invisible force doesn't allow Luz to look away. Grace is magnetic, she has always been magnetic even in those five minutes when he was not yet in love with her. And god knows what he would give right now to just stretch his neck and kiss her. It's always so hard to hold back, it takes a lot of effort and Luz doesn't know how long he will be able to resist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the cost of receiving a slap in the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she would never do that, right? Right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace walked in Luz's life like a goddess and he always wondered why the universe had led him there on that night in Normandy. What a place to meet your soulmate, surrounded by the enemy and more stress than he’d ever felt in his entire life. It was fate taking control of chance - to give them a chance. And it's keeping it up with the good work, because the more Luz and Grace manage to go through this life unscathed, the more they will have a chance when this will all be over. A chance to take that leap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz hopes that. Luz wants that. Luz </span>
  <em>
    <span>craves</span>
  </em>
  <span> that more than anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck’s going on here?” Martin’s voice startles Luz as his eyes are darting from him to Grace with his face all scrunched up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cobb’s arrival spares Luz an explanation, and he thinks he’s never been this glad to see his not so pleasant platoon buddy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Grace,” he steps into vision, eyeing the chocolate bars like everybody else, “Captain Speirs is going around asking for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace rolls her eyes once again. “For chrissake, can the man get things done by himself instead of having other people do them? He’s been sending people for me all morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone knows you’re his new favourite,” Cobb jokes, trying to steal some candy with the result of Luz slapping him on the hand. “Oi!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not his favourite, he just probably thinks I’m more trustworthy than you morons,” Grace remarks, struggling to hide a smile. “Everybody knows that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful, Miss Trustworthy,” Luz mocks her, mimicking the act of smoking and Grace laughs, hopping off the table with a quick jump and squinting her eyes once again. “Will you stop that, you just keep hurting yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, mommy,” she protests jokingly. “It’s just that sometimes I forget about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not having trouble believing that, given you didn’t even realise a fucking bullet entered your body,” Luz smirks. “How can you even </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>be aware of that, I’ll always wonder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep wondering, sunshine,” Grace is already walking away, an arm raised as to say goodbye, then she’s gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz sighs. Yeah, he’s going to keep wondering how it’s possible that after all this time his heart is still racing so fast whenever Grace is in the room. Or in a foxhole, which is more appropriate in their case. He came to terms with it months ago when he realised he was in love; he wasn't meant to do it, he didn't want to, he didn't look for it, but it happened. And it was the first time he felt such strong feelings: he’d been infatuated a handful of times before, but never had an infatuation had taken on these scary and simultaneously wonderful forms like it had with Grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace, with that emotional barrier built with the intention of keeping her feelings safe and locked up without letting anyone or anything in, made him discover what love is. The irony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Earth to Luz,” Cobb waves a hand in front of Luz. “I think we lost him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unluckily for you, I’m still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit, he’s grumpy now,” Martin smirks. “Can you give us a bar already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz rolls his eyes for the billionth time that day, he’s probably going to give himself a headache.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luz slams the door behind himself, shifting his rifle from one shoulder to the other while climbing down the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blasting the house across the river. Got it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hurrying a little, he pounds and clatters across the road before heading into the garage where the heavier weapons have been stored, and soon after he emerges with a bazooka in one hand and a bag of ammunition in the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice nearly rolls him to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Luz!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Grace. Of course it’s Grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi, puppet,” Luz says nonchalantly, without stopping his walk. “Got rid of Speirs already? I’m impressed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace reaches him, panting a little. “He wanted to talk about tonight’s patrol, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz stops in the middle of the street, having her almost bump into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you’re going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” she shrugs, defensively. “I’m just gonna be on that roof over there, trying to get down as many Krauts as possible with my beloved M1. Actually, I don’t think I’m ready to go on a patrol like that, not yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz sighs in relief. Knowing her, he thought she would have volunteered for the patrol and that madman of a captain would actually accept it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad to hear that. I can see your wound is still giving you some trouble, so it’s better if you stay quiet for some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I don’t think I’ll be able to stand in the same room with Germans and not be allowed to kill them.” Luz turns his head to Grace for a moment, finding her looking around buildings calmly, her rifle tight in her hands. Grace must sense his gaze, because she turns to him. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz shrugs, smirking. “Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing with a bazooka, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gonna blast that house over there. Lipton’s orders,” Luz explains as they keep walking towards the river. “Wanna tag along? I could use some backup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not,” Grace smiles as she takes the bag of ammunition from his hand. “How’s Lip doing? I could hear him coughing from our billet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll be fine. Webster!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Webster has just turned the corner and looks like he’s headed for the CP, but Luz could use some more help right now. He and Grace should be enough for the job, but an extra pair of hands is always useful, especially when it comes to blasting a house; better to have a couple more than a couple less.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Webster greets them with a wave of his hand as he walks up to them and gently taps Grace on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fellas,” he says, smiling. “I see you’re having some fun,” he then adds, pointing at the bazooka.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz smirks. “Hell yes, and you’re gonna be part of it. Come on, help us out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the job?” Webster asks as they start walking again towards the fence post. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My job,” Luz starts, “is to give some shit to that building over there. Blow it up like a volcano. Your job is to cover us from here, make sure no Krauts harass us, eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Webster nods, looking at the house Luz had just pointed out. “I was on outpost not long ago with a couple of fellas, we saw Germans airing it out just near the basement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to see if they’ll still be up for some air after we’ve given them a reveille,” Grace comments, making both of them snort. “Get in position, Web. See you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sarge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz and Grace walk down the road towards the fence post. The house they have to blow up is roughly two hundred yards from the other German houses in the enemy part of Haguenau. After passing a couple of iron fence posts, Luz decides to stop at the last one which is made of fieldstone, it gives the impression of being a bit safer than the others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, Grace, you just lay down there and cover me,” Luz says as she drops the bag of ammunition near the fieldstone. “I’ll shoot a couple of rounds from here, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace nods, and she situates herself in a prone position, eye already on the scope. Somehow it's odd to give orders to Grace, because she's much smarter and Luz knows that, in her own field, she's a captain. Or maybe Luz is just belittling himself because he has too much respect for the woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz pulls out three shells from the bag and lays them at his feet; he quickly gauges the distance to the target, then slides a round into the bazooka, he kneels and tilts the cannon slightly up, ready to fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready, Grace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always,” comes her voice from below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Luz shoots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shell rockets out of the bazooka with force, exploding against the basement window, sending a blast of rock and shattered fragments spinning everywhere nearby. Luz doesn't wait, he reloads the weapon quickly and fires another round, this time hitting the window above, sending another haze of smoke and window chunks through the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz shoots again, and this time the round goes directly upstairs and a large explosion makes the whole house shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a moment of silence in which Luz narrows his eyes to try to get a general idea of the damage. The house looks totally lifeless, enveloped in black smoke that drifts up to the already gray sky. No noise or movements coming from within. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that definitely won't make the Germans want to go out and get some fresh air again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” Grace comments from below, her gaze not leaving the smoking house, “nice shooting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right?” Luz says, particularly proud of himself for his work. And to think that he was arranging chocolate bars half an hour ago. He slings the bazooka over his shoulder, ready to head back. “Can’t sa-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A high-pitched whistle accompanies a shell as it whizzes angrily through the air and then reaches a nearby building. Luz looks up and notices that it has hit the top floor of the O.P.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t see them!” Grace shouts, still laying on the ground. “Luz!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get out of here!” he yells as she stands up and reaches him in no time. Luz hears multiple shootings somewhere behind them, and he spots Webster - who was joined by Sisk and Ramirez - shooting hell towards the German house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking 88s!” Grace roars through the noise as they run for the garage. “Webster! Guys, fall back!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Snipers!” Ramirez shouts as a few rounds of bullets travels through the air around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s all over in a couple of minutes, thankfully. The Germans stopped shooting as soon as Luz and the others managed to get cover behind the nearest building, hoping it won’t blow up just like that German house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz releases a sigh of relief along with a chuckle, leaning with his eyes closed against the wall. That was close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together with Grace, they salute the others and reach the garage, where Luz deposits the bazooka with extreme satisfaction. That's it for today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without asking if she has anything else to do, or other houses to blow up, Luz grabs Grace by the arm and drags her into a nearby alley, where he drops himself onto a step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace doesn't say anything, she just follows and slides onto the step next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting a couple for both of them and then passing one to Grace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for your help,” he says, his voice is a little bit tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace scoffs. “I didn’t do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stay in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz tries to enjoy the moment as much as he can, because he knows there aren't many opportunities to just take a break and sit there in silence with Grace without the others interrupting them. There's no need for words with her, the silence between them is worth a thousand times more than any conversation with any person; Luz is just happy to have her sitting by his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz turns to her, finding her sniffing her jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What on earth are you doing?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace smiles, then stretches her arm under his nose to make him smell the fabric. For no discernible reason, Luz does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It smells like an Army uniform and somehow fresh beans,” he states.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly,” she says, then brings the arm up to her nose and her nostrils twist funnily; she closes her eyes and continues to sniff her sleeve like it's the best fragrance in the world and Luz wonders what's going on in her head. “It smells like fabric. I took a shower yesterday and I no longer smell blood and dirt and smoke on my uniform. Right now, the smell of this fabric seems to me the best scent I've ever smelled.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz can't hold back a smile, because in that moment she looks so innocent and pure - and he can't help but agree, because he felt the same feeling yesterday when he showered after two months of wearing the same clothes. The feeling of  hot water running on his skin had seemed so surreal, yet so pleasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you finally smell nice again,” he says, elbowing her gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace takes a long drag from the cigarette before flipping it away. “I have a question, and I’m expecting you to be brutally honest with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t stink eight, I swear,” Luz immediately comments, making her laugh out loud. Gosh, her laugh. He wants her to laugh all the time, but he knows that it's not likely, not yet, so he's just content to savour these moments and make them infinite in his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz joins her in her laughter, thinking back to Carentan when the two of them were in almost the same position as now and she asked him how bad she stank. That was probably the moment he fell in love with her, and there’s no reason behind it, it’s just what it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering,” she starts, torturing her cuticles, “do I- do you think I’m different?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Different?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, like, from before?” Grace nibbles at her bottom lip, moving her gaze to him, the scar under her eye becomes more noticeable when the light hits her a certain way. “From when we met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hell yes,” Luz says and immediately regrets being so abrupt, because a small frown appears on her face. He coughs. “I mean, yes, like all of us. War changes people, Grace, you should know that better than anyone. You’ve been at war way longer than us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, it’s not-” she tries, letting her head fall back against the wall. “I just feel so </span>
  <em>
    <span>weak</span>
  </em>
  <span>, all the time. I’ve never felt like this since I joined SOE, never. I feel like sometimes I forget everything they taught me… it’s like it all scrambled up the moment I let myself get close to people again. And I’m not blaming you of course, but I spent so much time being like a robot that I forget how to be a person and I barely manage to make SOE-Grace and Easy-Grace coexist, if that makes sense? I’ve never felt the weight of war as strong as I do now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz can’t take his eyes off Grace, he just can’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I forget how to be a person</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she said, and that hit him straight in the heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strange light shines in her eyes, and Luz knows she's taking so much effort to try and hide it, but behind that glossy stare there's a mountain of pain. He’s learnt how to read her by now, even though it's still difficult because while Grace thinks she's lost her edge as a SOE agent, Luz thinks she can still be quite a mystery at times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it's always like that between them: she doesn’t break stare, ensuring her feelings can’t be seen in her eyes, while Luz cranes his neck to try and find them. Interpret them. Their stares are a contest of sorts and winning comes at a price. Grace always looks not at Luz so much as through him, like his head is transparent and he wonders if she’s aware when she does that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz tries a smile and takes her hand. Grace’s breathing becomes softer, the pensive look melting into a smile as soft as the morning light; her body squirms just a little as her muscles seem to relax under his touch. There is something about Grace's gaze he will never find in another woman, as if in that moment their souls have made a bridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not forgetting your skills, Grace,” he says, trying to find his most gentle tone without sounding like his grandmother. “At SOE, they shaped you to be a war machine, but machines always crack at some point. That’s not a bad thing, you know? As far as I'm concerned, you’re very far from being weak, you’re quite the badass in the company. But being weak doesn’t mean being useless or unworthy, it’s just… human. Hoobler’s death triggered you, I could see that back then, and what happened from there on, it was just- unthinkable. And then you lost your best friend. Again. So no, I don’t think you’re weak, I just think you might be </span>
  <em>
    <span>humanising</span>
  </em>
  <span> yourself again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace blinks at him and her eyes shine anew, as if they were waiting for those words to light up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she says, moving her gaze to her hands. “Last night I emptied my backpack and found my sabotage kit. Everything was inside, it was exactly how I set it up before Normandy. I haven’t touched it since then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Luz smirks. “Thank fuck you didn’t need those killing pills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suicide pills,” Grace corrects him with a smile. He just shrugs. “I know, but it used to be my best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, now you have more handsome best friends, stop looking for excuses to commiserate yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz absently bites his lip, hoping she takes that sentence for the joke it was meant to be. But Grace gives him a faint smile, and from that smile he understands that he's been more or less successful in making her feel better. He squeezes her hand, and they stay like that for some time until Luz suddenly remembers something. He fumbles in his pocket and pulls out a chocolate bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Luz!” Grace jolts when she sees him handing her the bar. “Wasn’t this supposed to be the Army's property?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>the Army, aren’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only when it suits you, apparently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace breaks the chocolate in two, and gives one to Luz who accepts gladly. He could use some sugar after all that hard thinking and comforting, which he isn’t used to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I needed that,” Grace says with her mouth full.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if you didn’t eat one just an hour ago,” Luz lifts a brow, then he changes his tone of voice to make it sound a little like Grace's - but realises that this could probably turn out to be his worst impression ever. Perhaps because she's inimitable, yeah, it must be that. “Thank you, George, for this yummy Harshey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace hits him in the head with the piece of chocolate left. “Thank you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>George, </span>
  </em>
  <span>for this yummy Harshey. Want a kiss too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” he dares, and she evidently realised what she said because she suddenly stops chewing and stares at her feet. It's so odd seeing her embarrassed, quite a pleasing experience. “Hey, Grace,” he says then, hoping she would look at him. She does. “Don't ever think you have to ask for my affection, because you don't. The more love I give you, the more I have bursting inside of me... crazy, huh? The more love we share, the more it multiplies. I wish I could say the same of these Harshey bars.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace erupts into a loud giggle, which sounds like an auditory hug. It winds its way through the wintry air enveloping even soldiers that are passing by right in that moment in its tickling embrace. Luz sees both Sisk and Bull smirking as they walk across the opposite alley. Beneath a sky that only promises rain and with yet another stressful day ahead that threatens to stretch into infinity before nightfall, that childish eruption of pure glee was the gift Luz didn't know he needed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, I was in a cot next to that Willis guy from Dog Company at the aid station. You know him, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perconte sounds so eager to tell this story, but all Luz can focus on is that there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>the </span>
  </em>
  <span>patrol going on outside and his friends plus Grace are out there. Technically she’s not properly on the patrol, so it’s not like she’s in the same danger as the others, but she’s on top of a roof, trying to take down Germans, and the sound of bullets is poisoning Luz’s ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who doesn’t?” he says distractedly, while fumbling with his knife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Frank,” Bull says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, so,” Perconte continues quite excited, “one night a lieutenant from I Company came in, and Willis had been bragging about his combat experience all the time, right? It was pathetic, I swear to god. And then he came up with, ‘I picked up a rifle at sixteen and have been fighting ever since’, I mean, what the hell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He should’ve tried picking up a girl instead,” Luz hisses while he decides that perhaps it's better to tuck the knife back into his pocket because he almost cut his hand three times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bull lets out a rough laugh, and Perconte just jumps oddly on the spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly what the lieutenant said!” he screeches funnily. “How did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz shrugs. “Great minds think alike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a dumbass, that Willis,” Bull comments, chewing on his cigar. “I swear I heard him once tell Liebgott that his father is in Churchill's circle of friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know it’s not true?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because his father raises pigs in Texas,” Bull says nonchalantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys all laugh, and for a moment Luz forgets his worries. And it’s in that moment that he notices all the noise outside has stopped. He feels his throat close up, but he doesn’t even have time to start worrying again because Grace enters the room with Heffron and Grant at her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz and Bull jump up, noticing the upset looks on their comrades’ faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jackson is dead,” Grant announces, dropping himself on a chair. “Stepped on his own grenade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Perconte sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys okay?” Luz asks them, his eyes resting on Grace. “Grace?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Just- I could hear his screams from the rooftop. Poor boy, what a useless death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Bull intervenes, raising a bottle of whiskey, “let’s have a toast to the kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them who just got back from the patrol exchange a tired look, but then reach the table where Bull and Perconte are sitting. Luz hurries to get two more chairs, so they all find themselves sitting around the lopsided table of what must once have been a beautiful and cosy house - someone rich used to live there, for sure. But now it's just a mass of broken furniture and tableware.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes of silence, Perconte decides to cheer everyone up a bit by telling the story of Willis from Dog Company again. This time around Luz doesn't spoil his story and just keeps quiet, giggling along with the others because he's relieved the patrol has gone well, all in all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches Grace with his foot under the table to get her attention, and when she turns around he just gives her a reassuring smile. She blesses him with one of her tired but beautiful smiles, raising her half-empty glass of whiskey and finishing it all in one gulp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as Luz tried, he’s never been able to keep up with her in a drinking game - that's why he stopped long ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Speaking of D Company,” Bull says at one point, addressing Grace. “I saw you earlier with that lieutenant, what’s his name? The one with the dog.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lieutenant Baranowski,” Grace replies, the corner of her mouth slightly turned up. “He’s in HQ, now. And he doesn’t have the dog anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why?” Luz asks, ignoring the rope that's weaving at his stomach. He actually met Peter at one point, and as much as it pains him to admit, the man was very nice and... harmless. But deep down he always feels a hint of jealousy when it comes to Grace, he just can't help it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace sighs. “The dog couldn’t handle Bastogne, they had to put him down, poor thing. I never even had the chance to meet him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, boy,” Heffron shakes his head. “Bastogne barely let </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> survive, I can’t imagine how must’ve been for a dog. He had that fancy name, what was it? Jean de Montreal or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace lets out a loud chuckle, followed by the others. “Jaint de Montmorency.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, how could you even remember that?” Heffron scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Babe, I happen to have an excellent memory,” Grace says. “I’m not made to forget things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bet not even Louis XIV had a dog with such a royal name,” Grant comments, pouring himself another round of whiskey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, his dog was probably called Fluffy or something like that,” Luz steps into the conversation. He can't </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> take part in a conversation regarding dogs. He remembers when Talbert found Trigger in Holland: a very good and obedient dog, and Luz grins at the thought that at once Trigger listened more to his commands instead of Talbert's.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you even know Louis XIV had a dog?” Grace raises a brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luz and Grant shrug. “We don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not making sense anymore,” Perconte declares, standing up. “I’m gonna fetch another bottle, so this conversation can finally get interesting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some laughter follows Perconte as he walks away, only to return shortly after with not one, but two new bottles of a reddish brown liqueur.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couldn’t find whiskey, we’ll just have to settle for this French shit,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Grace snatches a bottle from his hands with no manners whatsoever and studies the bottle. A smile breaks through her lips, while her expression turns into a nostalgic one. Happy, but nostalgic. “This is Hennessy Cognac! I haven’t seen one of these in years, fuck. Believe me, Frank, you’ll be happy to settle for this French shit,” she quotes him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's probably nearly three in the morning or so, and they don't take long to drain both of the bottles. At some point they are joined by other comrades as well, so the liquor runs out quickly. Luz will probably regret it the following day, but at the moment he doesn't care. It was a pretty demanding day, but all in all he's now happy to find himself there in that living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heffron makes everyone laugh the moment he staggers up and tells Grace, "Oi Miss I’m Not Made To Forget Things, I hope you didn't forget the way to our building because I'm not sure I’ll be able to even find the door." So the night - or morning, depending on the point of view - ends with them half drunk saying goodbye to yet another day.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>» info «<br/>- the scene of Luz and Grace blasting the German house really happened! (minus her, obviously) We don't get to see it in the show, we only see Luz been given the order to go blast the house, and the scene ending with him, Webster and Lt Jones exiting the building.<br/>- Willis from Dog Company doesn't exist, I just needed a name lol<br/>- sadly, the death of Peter's dog is true :( the poor thing couldn't handle Bastogne, so they had to put it down. It made me so sad when I read the story.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. A Handful of Letters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Harry!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace shoves the rifle on her back, before running towards Harry Welsh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She throws her arms around his neck, sinking her face in his fresh and scented uniform. It’s been almost two months since she last saw him, and it wasn’t the most pleasant of goodbyes. Grace remembers Christmas Day, Welsh’s leg was spurting blood and she could even see its ruby red colour in the moonlight, while his screams were breaking the stiffness of the night. She was just staying there, speechless, watching as Roe was trying to stop the blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Welsh brings a hand to her head, ruffling her hair gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Woah, was that a hug?” he asks, exaggerating his surprised tone when Grace finally frees herself from the hug. “I'll try to get hit more often if it involves hugs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very funny,” she scolds him, smiling. “I only do it on special occasions. But mind you, it can't happen twice, that's the rule. No hugs allowed if you come back a second time, so you better not get evacuated again, Harry Welsh, you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus,” Welsh sighs, squeezing her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re still you, after all. After-” Welsh stops himself by chewing on his bottom lip, but his eyes never leave Grace. “They told me what I missed these past couple months, I heard you’ve had a hard time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We all have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” Welsh continues as they start walking towards the CP. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t have any doubt that you’d still be, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Our unbreakable spy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It kind of does make Grace feel flattered, but she doesn’t think it’s the truth at all. Especially the </span>
  <em>
    <span>unbreakable </span>
  </em>
  <span>part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I've grazed the depths a couple of times, Harry. I always thought I was strong, but I believe that this time it wasn't my own strength that helped me carry on, but the men's. Yours too, even if you weren't there at the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them continue to walk slowly, Welsh has become strangely silent but this doesn't bother her at all; Grace is just really happy to have him back in Easy Company after all that time. With his return, Sisk's and Webster's, the company is slowly being reborn. Sure, there are still some missing and irreplaceable puzzle pieces that will never come back, but at least some of the puzzle is starting to fit back together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace is not yet at her best, neither physically nor mentally - there's a high chance she will never be - but these little things, like the return of a friend, help her not to dwell on negative thoughts most of the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed talking with you, you know,” Welsh breaks the silence just as they reach the CP. “Even our small and meaningless chats. As I said, I had no doubt about finding you again here once I’d come back, but you never know how things can go, you know… I’m just happy to have found my friend again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Grace could cry, she would. With everything that has happened in the past few months, she hadn't realised how much she missed Welsh up until that point; from their deepest chats to the silliest, she missed his presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace smiles to herself, thinking back to Welsh being one of her first friends ever in Easy Company, along with Luz.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m happy to finally get my friend back,” she smiles. “At least you did come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze shows that Welsh has understood what Grace was referring to, but he just offers her another smile; Grace has always found the gap between his teeth adorable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I did. Couldn’t miss the chance to experience going AWOL.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You went AWOL?” a big smirk purses on Grace’s lips. “As if I didn’t admire you enough…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m an officer, not a saint,” Welsh comments and she can’t help but erupt in loud laughter, making some heads nearby turn to them. He seems pleased by her reaction, so he continues. “Also, can we take a moment to appreciate the fact that I'm back in a company with no Foxhole Norman? Was the first thing they told me as soon as I set foot in this shitplace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noise that bursts forth Grace's mouth is like a cross between a snort and a drunken laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably the only good thing that happened recently,” Grace blurts out, shaking her head. She leans on the door frame of the building, taking a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her pocket; Grace offers one to Welsh, which he gladly accepts. “I never thought I’d say this, but thank fuck for Speirs. He’s a hell of a commander, you should’ve seen him in Foy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The madman,” Welsh smirks, blowing some smoke into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, he totally is,” Grace agrees, nodding. “But thank fuck for that too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shortly afterwards Grace and Welsh finally enter the CP along with other comrades, including Lipton, and Grace couldn't be more proud of him for the battle commission he is about to receive. As Welsh catches up with Richard and Nixon, Grace joins up with Luz and Sisk, who are doing absolutely nothing but pretend to sort out food rations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sisk gives her a broad smile as Luz gives her a friendly nudge on her arm. She positions herself next to him, their arms touching and a jolt of electricity makes its way up to Grace's chest like every time she finds herself in his company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace turns to him, finding him proudly watching Lipton as he's being promoted to 2nd lieutenant by Richard; Luz has changed lately, but in a good way. There is still a slight hesitation with both of them every now and then, but Grace has the feeling that things are getting back to being as perfect as they were before the big declaration of love. Not that it ruined their relationship, it put them both in a position to face their feelings and fears and that's a good thing; but on the other hand, things got a little messed up after that, simply because it happened at the wrong time and place, not because there was anything wrong with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The more love I give you, the more I have bursting inside of me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luz had told her the other day, and Grace thinks it’s one of the most beautiful things someone has ever said to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace is confident in them, at least in that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now the only obstacle to overcome is to get to the end of this war unscathed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>✧ ✧ ✧ ✧</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few weeks in Haguenau, the entire 101st Airborne Division is finally being load onto a train and transferred back to Mourmelon-le-Grand; no more trucks or jeeps, this time they would finally have a pleasant trip to the French camp that had been their home before leaving for Bastogne in December.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace is happy to finally leave Haguenau, mainly because she can no longer tolerate the acrid smell of that place which is somehow getting stronger each day, and even if the Germans are slowly retreating, there is always the problem of mortar rounds that occasionally take down some buildings. Grace has been living for three weeks with the constant anxiety that the next building taken down is the one she is in, so when it's announced that Easy Company will finally return to Mourmelon, she can only be delighted by the news.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right before leaving, Richard is promoted to major. Grace can’t be more proud of her friend, who deserves the leaves more than anyone she has ever known, but this means she probably will be seeing him even less than before. She remembers having the same thoughts when they put him in command of the whole battalion back in October: proud, but selfishly sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily the journey to Mourmelon doesn’t last that long, just a three hour train ride in which Grace splits the time between pretending to lose at cards to Talbert - after she won three times, he was starting to get annoyed, so Grace is just being a good friend in her opinion by letting him win - and chatting with Malarkey and Luz about Easy Company's future. For once, Grace prefers to focus on the present and how to try and fix herself, rather than thinking about where they will end up in a month; also because this life is unpredictable, and she well knows how it is thinking you’re safe, settling down, and then being sent to the front line the same night. But it's also nice to listen to her friends' plans, and focus on them instead of her non-plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace still has no idea what to do once this is all over, so her favourite game now is to procrastinate those thoughts for as long as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally reach Mourmelon-le-Grand, everything is as Grace remembered it was four months ago - although it seems like it's been years since she was playing soccer in the field over there. Everything is in its place, except...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit, you gotta be kidding me…!” Perconte explodes next to her as they enter their old barrack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s clean. It’s perfectly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrongly</span>
  </em>
  <span> clean</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s all our stuff?” Sisk protests, heading to his old bed next to Grace’s. “Our trophies from Normandy and Holland… where the fuck is my button collection?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You collect buttons?” Bull raises a brow, smirking, the cigar hanging from his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sisk drops on his knees and checks under the bed, probably hoping to find a box with all his old stuff all piled up. “Yeah, I do, Bull. Buttons from Krauts’ jackets, and now someone stole them. They stole everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These people looted our barracks, probably it was those who came after we left for Bastogne. Bastards,” Grace states, reaching her old bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn't left much there, after all; she didn't own many things, and almost everything she had, she brought with her to Belgium. All the important things, at least. There she had left just a few stamps and a few magazines, all of which she found in Holland. She wasn't the one to take </span>
  <em>
    <span>trophies</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as Sisk called them earlier, like guns, bullets, knives... she didn't need any of those items to remind her of the war. The memories are enough. And she definitely didn't want any of those as ornaments in her future home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the other hand, Grace's friends seem to be very angry at the raid that anyone who replaced them had done, and Grace knows she shouldn't find it funny, but a small smile forms on her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First you lose your friends, then your belongings. Apparently life enjoys taking the piss out of you, these days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My watches, they’re all gone,” Perconte pouts from the other side of the room and Grace laughs, thinking back at the first time she met him and his arm was wrapped up in watches he stole from dead Germans on D-Day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is divine punishment for stealing from the dead, Perco,” Grace says, making them all laugh. “Come on, war’s not over, you might still be able to get some when we’re gonna jump into Berlin. And I’m sure you’ll find plenty of jackets to steal buttons from, Skinny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sisk smirks, resigned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, fellas,” Grace walks to the door, her high ponytail bouncing with each step. “Since there’s nothing for me here, I’m gonna join my platoon.” As she is about to exit the barrack, Christenson comes inside. “Ask Frank what time it is,” she tells him, earning a frown while she hears Perconte grumbling from a distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sincere smile on her face, Grace fixes her backpack on her shoulder and walks towards the barrack she saw Malarkey enter shortly before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gaze is captured by two soldiers who are cheerfully chatting leaning against the door of a nearby shack, and Grace feels her heart tighten at the memory that in that exact spot, about four months ago, she and Malarkey gave Muck the money they had won for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace feels her throat dry, as if someone had suddenly drained it all, she almost feels like choking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Malarkey had won that money by playing cards, they had won it so that Muck could send it home to his girlfriend and have a month-long honeymoon once the war was over... Muck had invited them to the wedding, he had asked her, Malarkey and Luz to be his best men and woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who knows if he had told Faye about it...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace finds herself standing in the middle of the path, her gaze still fixed on the two men. She immediately looks away, shaking her head as if this helps her get rid of the memories more easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the sight of the field where they had spent hours and hours playing soccer, makes it impossible to just shake the memories away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memories of her and Muck playing, the two of them always teaming up together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace breathes deeply, trying not to think about it too much, but then her gaze is captured by something else, something apparently anonymous: there is a small fountain there next to the barrack that Grace was about to enter. A few months earlier, Muck had skinned his elbow after a nasty slip while practicing for the infamous Christmas football game against the 502nd. It not being a serious thing, Grace had accompanied him to the fountain to clean himself a little, laughing at him and his clumsiness. Which was not true at all, but they liked to make fun of each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace remembers that he had clumsily got blood on his t-shirt, and had tried in vain to wash hit off with the water. She had laughed at him, teasing him. "You don't have to do your own laundry, Skip, you're fighting a war," she had told him that day. "I can't help myself, Grace. My mother taught me how to be independent since I was little, only the fact that there's someone making me meals makes me feel guilty," he had replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lump in her throat prevents Grace from breathing properly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can't do this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thought she could, but it’s been two months and she’s still failing. She will probably fail forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can't deal with the fact that wherever she looks, images of the smiling face of her friend live in every place, in every word, in just </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when Grace thought she was finally managing…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace feels like a flower wilting from lack of sun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels confusion flowing through her mind and skin, she doesn’t even know what it is… it looks like that emptiness surfacing again. The world is spinning above her, but she’s just there, waiting for something that will never come. And that makes Grace feel even worse, her mind being sucked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a minute before she was laughing at Sisk and Perconte, and now she feels like she has slipped into a hole that has no bottom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace runs a hand across her face, pressing her eyes with the fingers as if to try to get all the images of her happy friend out of her mind. The images of Muck planning his marriage with Faye, even though he didn't even get the chance to ask her to tie the knot. But he knew she would say </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Grace knew it too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly Grace knows what to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows what she has to do, she has always known it all these months, but for one reason or another she never thought it was the right time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now it is, she absolutely must try to get rid of this enormous weight that presses her chest like an anvil, that takes her breath away. Grace doesn't know if it will work, or if it makes sense at all, she has no idea and maybe it's a stupid thing, but inside her she knows she </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace strides briskly past her barrack, ignoring someone’s voice calling for her. She doesn’t know exactly where she’s going, she just wants to find some place safe and quiet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A minute later she sits on the ground, her back against the furthest barrack she could reach and a book placed on her legs. Grace rifles through her backpack, emerging with a piece of paper and a pen.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Faye, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she writes down on the stained yellowish paper, her hand trembling hard. Grace looks up, blinking into space. “Dear Faye </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” she asks aloud to herself, shaking her head. “What am I even doing? You probably don’t even know who I am…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace takes a deep, deep breath before the pen meets the paper again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Faye,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t even know how to begin this letter but I feel like it’s the only thing that’s keeping me from going insane right now. Writing to you. And the odd thing is that I don’t even know if you know who I am, but I like to think you do. I like to think that, somehow, Skip talked about me in one of the lovely letters he used to send you. He wasn’t allowed to name names, but I knew him and I want to believe he found a way to tell you about me anyway.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I honestly can’t come up with better words other than these, that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him, I’m sorry I couldn’t help him get home to you, I’m sorry he won’t be asking you to marry him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Skip wanted to, he couldn’t stop talking about it, and it was so endearing. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He</span>
  <em>
    <span> was endearing. Skip was one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and I watched him die, Faye. I was there, I saw everything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve seen a lot of death, I’ve seen a lot of friends and comrades go, but with him it was different. It…  broke me completely. I’ve never felt that way, not even when the most important person has been taken away from me. None of their deaths broke me as Skip’s did. So I know there’s nothing I could say to make you feel better, to make </span>
  </em>
  <span>myself </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel better, but I guess I hoped this connection would help us get through it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His passing left such a hole in this company, wherever I looked there were people crying for Skip, missing him. I miss him too, so much. It’s been two months and I’m still having nightmares about that night. You know, I was in the foxhole with him, and then suddenly I wasn’t… and now I’m here and he isn’t. I feel like I failed him, like I abandoned him, even though there was nothing I could do if I stayed in that foxhole. I’d be dead too, we’d be dead together. Perhaps it would have been better this way… easier.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope one day when this is all over, we will be able to meet. He spoke so highly of you, that I almost feel like I know you already, at least a little. I always found myself thinking that you were such a lucky woman, having someone speak so wonderfully about you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I could’ve had more time with him. I wish </span>
  </em>
  <span>you </span>
  <em>
    <span>could’ve had more time with him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so sorry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There are so many things I want to tell you, I really wish we could meet someday, I know he would have wanted us to. I want to.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don't feel compelled to answer this letter if it’s too much, I understand. I wish I could do more, but for the moment these words are all I have.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely yours, Hélène. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace throws the pen away, sinking her face into her hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels like when you know that the tears are coming, that annoying tingling that tickles your throat and your head is bursting... but the tears don't come. They never come. Well, what did she expect, anyway? That writing a letter to her dead friend's girlfriend would make her cry and forget it all?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn't know if it's a sensation or what, but Grace somehow manages to embrace that feeling of being powerless, and it almost makes her feel better. Writing those words to Faye, confessing to her that losing Muck was the most crucial point in Grace's life, helped her somehow. She’s never told anyone and she’s never even admitted it to herself because she was so ashamed of it, she felt ungrateful... but losing Muck was even worse than losing Henri. Maybe it was the circumstances, the awful and constant feeling of being close to death, but losing Muck had a catastrophic effect on her, something she had never experienced before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took her over a year to finally be able to let Henri go, how long will it take before the sense of oppression of Muck's death leaves her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Grace is convinced that writing this letter was the right choice. Faye will understand, Grace knows she will. Only she and Malarkey can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, Grace finds Vest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Allen,” she greets him as he’s about to enter a barrack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns his head fast, evidently taken aback, but then gives Grace a huge smile as soon as he realises it's her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grace, right on time,” Vest says, nodding for her to follow him inside. “Come, I’ve got something for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aware of displaying the most confused expression, Grace follows him inside. What could Vest possibly have for her? A letter? No one has ever written to her since she joined the Airborne, not that there were many people who would have wanted to write to her, as all the people she knows believe she is dead - and the very few who know the truth can’t write to her anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you have something for me?” Grace asks. Her hands are sweaty, but that doesn't stop her from gripping onto Faye's letter even tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vest nods, he goes around the desk and starts rummaging through all the drawers. “Where the hell did I- here they are!” he rejoices, emerging with a couple of letters and a look of victory as if he had just defeated a friend at cards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hands both the letters to Grace, his smile never leaving his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace takes them, then gives Faye's letter to him. When he notices the name on the envelope, his smile fades with astonishing speed and Grace almost feels guilty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vest lays his eyes on her again, then nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone knows who Faye Tanner is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace waves the letters he just gave her, her look even more confused. “What are these? This one is addressed to Babe Heffron, the other one to… the regiment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right, sorry,” he mumbles, a little bit embarrassed. “The one addressed to Babe is actually from Bill. Bill Guarnere.” Grace’s stomach does a somersault. “He wasn’t sure how to get in touch with you without- you know. So he put Babe’s name on it, well, at least that’s what Babe said when I gave him this letter.  And the other one is from a certain </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tardi</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Another somersault. “I gave it to Major Winters, but he told me it’s actually for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace didn’t realise she was holding her breath until she felt like choking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tardi is Henri Tardivat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tardivat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tardivat wrote her a letter, he’s okay. He’s still alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, um, I’ll leave you to your reading, then,” Vest smiles again and Grace realises she’s smiling back. “I’m gonna take care of this, promise,” he adds, holding up Faye’s letter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vest takes Grace's letter with him across the room and puts it in a box along with other letters ready to mail. Grace finds herself observing him for no reason until he starts rifling through some other boxes, when suddenly she remembers that she has a letter from Guarnere and one from Tardivat in her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She runs out the door, narrowly avoiding two soldiers who were about to enter. Grace distractedly mumbles an “I'm sorry”, then walks around the shack and slides onto the floor, her back against the wall and a small smile still curving her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill or Henri?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace places Guarnere's letter carefully on her lap, and begins to unwrap tardivat's. It's short, only a few sentences in the meticulous handwriting of the former captain of the French Resistance; Grace has received a few letters from Henri in the past, always made up of few but concise sentences, it's his style. And in this case he probably had the fear of giving her away by saying something too significant in case the letter ended up in the wrong hands...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear H,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The weather is fine, but as you probably know my wife left in August and since then I’ve been living with my brothers. It’s going okay, actually way better than when I used to live with my wife. We’ve had some trouble at the end and she lost a baby, we wanted to call him Ephram. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just wanted to know if you’re okay, if freelance is still working or if it’s ended. If I don’t get an answer to this letter, I’ll know it’s ended. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tardi.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace closes her eyes and lets her head fall back onto the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was convinced she got a bit rusty when it came to the skills she’d learned in her role as a spy after so much time away from that life, but apparently she had misjudged herself. Probably Tardivat's letter read by someone else would not have made sense, or rather, it would have seemed just a simple letter to a friend, but she didn't need a rereading to understand what really lies behind those words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By 'the weather' Tardivat means life, war, the like; the 'wife' is the Maquis and Grace has been wondering so many times if the French Resistance has still been operating even after the liberation of Paris in August of last year. Clearly not. Henri doesn't have siblings, so with 'brothers' he probably means he stayed in the French army.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he's okay, and that's all that matters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Françoise is dead, though. Ephram was her code name. Grace wonders how and when it happened, she wonders if she died with the gun in her hand as she always told Grace. “It's my ideal way to go, Hél, with my beloved in one hand and Kraut's blood in the other”, she used to tell her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace smiles sadly to herself, running her fingers over the ruined paper and thinking of yet another brave woman who lost her life for her country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tardivat is fine, and he has no idea if Grace is still alive or not. All this time he never knew if Grace was still alive, and she never stopped for a second to think about how worried he must have been all these months... she feels guilty for not having found a way to write to him first, it's all her fault. He never dared reaching out to her, with everything going on, but now with Germany on the brink of defeat, he knew it was a bit safer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace sighs. She immediately pulls a pen and paper out her backpack and scribbles a quick reply to her friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Tardi,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a joy for me to receive this letter and knowing that you’re alright. I knew about your wife, but I’m sure it’s better this way. It wasn’t meant to last. But I’m sure your brothers are taking good care of you, god bless them. I’m so sorry about your child, I’ll keep them in my prayers. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m okay and I’m closer than you think. I’m coming to meet you and your brothers as soon as the war ends.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sending all my love,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>H.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Writing to Tardivat feels odd but good at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace rereads her words over and over again, trying to set her mind as if she were a stranger, and in the end she's quite content with the result. She folds the paper and slips it into the inside pocket of her jacket, thinking that she will visit Vest again as soon as she answers Guarnere's letter too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace laughs to herself reading the first two words of Guarnere’s messy handwriting.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear KID!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sure you didn’t expect to hear from me anytime soon, so I’m trying to imagine your surprised face while reading this letter. I wish I could be there to see it with my own eyes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve been exchanging some of these with Johnny, so I bet you already know they had to chop my leg off. You were there that day, you saw how messed up it was, so I guess we all saw that coming. They tried, you know, fixing it… but it was just irreparable. But I’m okay, both Joe and I are okay and luckily we’re still together and about to travel back to the States.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t believe I get to see my home and my mama again. Never thought I’d go through Normandy in one piece, let alone coming home. Not in one piece, but at least I’m alive enough to go back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I heard you had a little trip to the hospital too, not long after Joe and I had been sent to another hospital in Paris. Johnny said that you got shot and were there for weeks. He also told me how brave you’ve been, but he didn’t need to point that out, I already know you’re the toughest little shit in the whole company! Word says, little </span>
  </em>
  <span>sergeant </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so proud of you like an older brother - yeah I know I’m younger, you always point that out, but let me just be your older brother for a bit longer.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In case you’re wondering if we’ve been talking behind your back, you’re absolutely right. They’ve been filling me in with everything that’s going on and your name always comes up, don’t be so surprised. I know you, and I know you’re humble because you don’t realise some of us wouldn’t be still alive if it wasn’t for you… me included. I’ll never forget how you saved my life back in Carentan, barely a day after I expressed my concern about you being there. I've never been so wrong in my whole life, but I’m so glad I was.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’d love to hear back from you, kid, I hope this letter finds you well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bill.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace reads Guarnere's name aloud, as if saying it she hoped he would suddenly appear next to her, and she lets her head drop back again, a smile that doesn't seem to want to leave her face. She then suddenly bursts out laughing, thinking about how moody the war has made her: until half an hour ago she was having a panic attack because of Muck and now she's laughing madly for no apparent reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Get your shit together, Grace,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she tells herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace re-reads Guarnere's letter, still smiling even though there is nothing particularly captivating in it. But it's her friend's words, and it's as if reading that letter she hears him speaking directly to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a smile still on her face, Grace picks up the pen and some paper again and begins to write down everything that comes to her mind. It eventually turns into a two sheet letter, that starts with her informing him he has definitely improved her mood; she tells him about the letter she wrote to Faye Tanner shortly before and how Muck left a void inside her, a void made even worse by missing him, Guarnere, and Toye, Hoobler, Smokey, Penkala and all the people who died or have been sent home. A void that fortunately is partially filled by the people who have remained, by the people she loves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace wants to tell him about Luz, but she doesn't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time, she would like to tell someone about how she feels about Luz and that incredible but not yet acted upon love born in the battlefields, but she doesn't trust herself to write her feelings on paper. Grace will tell him later when she goes to Philadelphia to meet him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She will do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace concludes the letter by saying just that, that she's looking forward to joining him in the States for a well deserved beer or two.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it a mirage or is that a smile I see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace looks up and sees Malarkey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’d come half an hour ago, you’d find me half dead,” she comments with a smirk, making him some room so he can sit alongside her. Malarkey smiles, then eyes the letter. “It’s Bill’s. And my mate Henri from the Maquis, you remember him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Grace moves her gaze back to the letter, folding it and placing it carefully in the same pocket that holds Tardivat’s letter. “I wrote a letter to Faye.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace feels Malarkey's gaze still on her, but for once she doesn't mind. After what seems like hours, she looks up and finds him smiling softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just felt like it was the right thing to do, you know,” Grace continues, even though she knows Malarkey wasn’t looking for an explanation. “For me, for her, for Skip. I just thought- everything in this place reminds me of him, wherever I look, he’s there. I thought telling her about my feelings would help me. Help us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wrote to her too,” Malarkey says, shrugging. “For the same reason. Actually I just gave my letter to Vest, and he told me that Faye’s going to receive a handful of letters this month, so I was sure you’d written to her as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace smiles for the billionth time that day, but for a whole different reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got three days leave, starting tomorrow,” Malarkey informs her. “You’ll manage without me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Haha, very funny,” Grace elbows him lightly. “The real question is, will </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>manage without me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Probably not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it.” Malarkey laughs, ruffling her hair a little. “I’m glad you get to spend some time away from all this. No one deserves it more than you, Don.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do,” he shrugs. “Time will come for you too, Grace. Sooner rather than later, you’ll see. Actually, you can come with me, now that I think about it! I highly doubt you’d get in trouble, I mean, the Germans have other things to think about at the moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very sweet of you,” Grace says, very touched by Malarkey inviting her, “but I think I’ll lay low a bit longer. You never know… and I don’t want to get you lot into trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malarkey nods and gives her another faint smile, then moves his gaze down to his shoes and the two stay silent for a while. She doesn't mind their silences, because just his presence is enough to make her feel better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grace watches him carefully: he's slightly different than when she came back from the hospital, he seems to have recovered a little. Or maybe it's the absence of the rough beard that makes him look a little more serene and clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same feeling from before, when she wanted to tell Guarnere about her feelings for Luz, starts forming inside her once again, so randomly, and this time she decides not to ignore it. Of course Malarkey suspects enough already, but Grace has never talked about it openly with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Grace begins to tell, and on her friend's face a familiar smirk appears, the one that used to pop out whenever he and Muck were involved in some mischief... a smirk that means “finally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>» info «<br/>- Harry Welsh went AWOL for real! But if I remember correctly he rejoined Easy Company in April and not while they were in Haguenau. As always, I'm sticking to the tv series timeline :)<br/>- In Malarkey's book, he says that those who came to Mourmelon after they left for Bastogne DID steal all their stuff! They were so mad, hahah!<br/>- I don't know if you remember, Freelance was the operation when they had to fake Grace's death in the early chapters! That's what Henri asked her in the letter, I thought about pointing it out because some of you might not remember - it's been quite some time from that chapter eheh :)<br/>- Bill truly used to exchange letters with Johnny Martin after he got hit; in his book there's the first letter Martin sent him and it's so sknwkjbfjwkbnkjw *cries* because Martin didn't get to say goodbye and he cried a lot after Bill and Joe left. Also, I'm not entirely sure about the timeline, but they did jump from one hospital to the another, first Bastogne, then Paris, then England and Scotland, but I'm not sure when they actually got back to the States. In his book, Bill says that he and his girlfriend Fran went together to Maryland on April 23rd, and by then he had been home for quite some time.<br/>- Malarkey did write a letter to Faye Tanner and if you've never read it, I suggest you do it :'( but he did it after his three days leave, and not before. I changed it for the purpose of my story!</p><p>***</p><p>Hiya! We got back to Grace eheh I read all your comments and I'm SO happy you loved reading Luz's point of view! So so happy!! This chapter is pivotal for Grace, because by writing to Faye she finally manages to move on Skip's death; not that she will recover from it with the snap of a finger, but it was her first step to get some peace :) if you have any question please don't be shy! I always love answering your doubts &lt;3<br/>See you next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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